


Depth Takes A Holiday

by Monroe_Happens



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Bad Boyfriends, Bad Decisions, Bad Puns, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fun, Gen, M/M, Modern Era, Multi, Possessive Behavior, Teen Angst, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 44
Words: 99,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25779709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monroe_Happens/pseuds/Monroe_Happens
Summary: Three months after he turned 22, Raoul made the brash decision to leave all he's known behind and went into business of running an Opera with incompetent fools.He's the proud Stage Papa of 36 talented people, best friend to a stage manager with crippling anxiety, casually courting a sociopathic murder addicted "ghost," and just doing his best to save the Opera Populaire from any sordid thing that comes their wayand if you don't like all that he do, you can suck a duck . . .Raoul: It's not always doom and gloom at the Opera. Sometimes it's weird, fun, and unusual. Sometimes.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Erik | Phantom of the Opera & Madame Giry, Erik | Phantom of the Opera/Madame Giry, Meg Giry/Original Male Character(s), Raoul de Chagny & Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 60
Kudos: 33





	1. How?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm changing Raoul's role/involvement in the business/company management a little bit for the purpose of this work. He's the mother hen now. Everyone else is basically the same in who they are. Just go with it and trust me like my name's the Doctor. Cool? Cool, cool, cool!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reference material  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3CPvza1HfVU&t=122s

“Well, when one enters into a compromise, both parties agree to sacrifice something in order to move forward.” Raoul rubbed his face, and he really did not want to do this, but his managers were too busy elsewhere.

How convenient, that when the entire company demands that things change or everyone, _everyone_ walks away from the theatre, they have urgent business elsewhere.

Cowards.

“I can’t with her!” They both shouted as they pushed him into the office as they fled, cursing the damn diva, opera, and not taking their mothers advice about being lawyers or bankers.

So, Raoul was in their stead, behind the desk trying to deal with the problem. The same problem that just cannot seem to be fixed. She is the living incarnate of a sexual disease.

“Sacrifice? Why should I sacrifice? I have been the lead—”

Raoul puts his hand up to stop her.

“You cannot perform all three of those roles. Choose _one_ or I place you in the ensemble. This way you're still in the the production.”

She made a choking sound. Her cheeks turned red, she started to shake. Raoul braced for impact or shrapnel, for she really did look like she would explode.

“E-ensemble?!”

Raoul picked up a letter, pretending to read it. A tactic that has worked for him the past when he dealt with difficult people.

“That’s what I said,” he did not look up at her.

"And just what are you sacrificing??"

"My time and patience at the moment. I will level with you, I don't want you in the production, however your name still sells tickets, despite how involved you are."

That choking sound returned.

“Cosette.”

“Too old.” Raoul yawns and turns the paper over.

“Too old?!”

"The role is off the table.”

“Off the table!” She stands.

“Ensemble it is then. Good day.” He waved her off.

“We are—”

Meg bursts through the door, she is holding something, shakes it wildly.

“Raoul!” She says, her affect urgent. Raoul gives her his attention. He remembers that Carlotta is still present though and indicates her.  
Meg looks over, her cheeks burn, she nods, her head bowed as she walks backwards, closes the door, knocks on the door, and reenters.

“Raoul!”

“Yes?”

“Body milk!” She says desperately.

“Pardon?”

“Body milk! Body milk!” She gestures to the object in her hand. She shakes the bottle with each word.

“What about it?”

"Well, we, the dancers, were each given a bottle. We were told you ordered it for us. Thank you, sir. I just. We have a query."

"Yes?"

“What is it?” She frowns. Christine enters the office and goes to her friend.

“Did you find out?”

Meg shakes her head. Both turn to Raoul.

“What’s happening?”

“Body milk.” Meg shakes the bottle.

“What does that mean.” Christine clarifies.

Both nods, yes. That is what they want to know.

“It’s milk. For the body.” He supplies awkwardly and slowly.

This does not appease or satisfy the curious women.

“But what does that mean? Do we drink it?”

“No.”

“It’s says “milk,” though.” Meg narrows her eyes. Christine looks at the bottle and then to Raoul.

“Yes, if it's not milk, what is it?”

“It’s like, I don’t know, lotion. I mean, it’s not as if you would put shea butter on toast.” He says lightly. The laughter in his eyes fades as he sees their facial expressions of embarrassment, and a tint of something else. Shock?

“Don’t do that. Don’t put shea butter on toast.”

They both lean forward a bit and laugh awkwardly. They are terrible liars.

“Oh, of course we wouldn’t do that.” Christine swats at the air, at the inane notion she would ever simply just trust something called, “butter,” to be anything but. No, she is smarter than that.

“Ha!” Christine laughs and moves her body into a strange pose to the left, like an awkward robot that needs oil.

“Nope.” Meg smiles brightly, her body stiff.

Raoul sighs deeply and tries to remain professional.

“I need the both of you to promise me, that you’ll _never_ cook for anyone. _Ever_.”

They nod furiously and leave.

“Ahem.”

Ah. She is still there.

"Something else I can help you with. Otherwise, I have business to take care of, as you can see,” he gestures to the desk, picks up an envelope,” Ah! Like this for example, is from our gracious landlord.”

Raoul scoffs and turns the letter upside down; coins fall onto his desk.

“It appears I overpaid his rent, and he’s returning the change. An honest specter.”

The color of his face changes, as he reaches the end of the letter. He looks around madly

“He approves of my casting choices.” He suddenly feels very cold.

“I shall leave then,” and she makes haste.

Still holding the letter, Raoul is trying to process this.

“ _How_?”


	2. She projects well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlotta demonstrates to Meg and Christine how it's done.

“We’re _doomed_.”

“Emergency exits?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“We’re the only ones in the theatre. She’ll _know_.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Yep.”

“Oh! Chandelier!”

“What?”

“Bring it down, she get’s distracted and we leave!”

“How?”

“Oh. Um. How does Mr. Bucket get access?”

“It’s a ladder I think, but I doubt Buckethead would just give us his key.”

“Sssh-shhh. She’s coming.”

“Smile!”

Meg and Christine shine brighter than the Sun. Carlotta is oblivious to anything beyond her system.

“Well?”

The two young ladies look at each other. Meg speaks first.

“Your projections were good.” She nods, her face starts to burn from her kindness.

“Yes. You, uh, enunciated well. Very clear.” Both girls mumble and mutter in agreement.

“Your costume fit the character arc.”

“This is _my_ dress.”

“Well, you look good!”

“What did you like about it?”

“Ah.”

“The dress?”

“My _song_.”

“That was a version I have not-erm, experienced before.” Meg trails off, her eyes pleading for an assist.

“You made it your own!” Christine comes in with the support.

“Thought so.”

“You have a very strong and commanding vocal presence.”

Meg mutters something and Christine elbows her in the ribs. Both smile like their lives are on the line.

“Would you like me to teach you proper vocal—”

“No!” Christine shouts before she can stop herself.

“I mean, my tutor is _very_ particular.”

“Yes, he’s very strict.”

“So strict.”

“He beats her with a stick when she’s off key or too pitchy.”

“Er—sure.”

“Does he?”

Carlotta is growing tired of the company and conversation.

 _“Do you want to see her scars?_ ” Meg asks huskily. Christine covers her face and prays her Angel cannot hear this.

“In fact, I think it’s time for one of her lessons now.” Meg reaches for her companion’s arm and pulls her up. They both start to leave the aisle.

“Yes.” Christine finishes her final prayer.

“I have to take her.”

Both hurry the hell out of there.

_“Beats me with a stick?”_

“I panicked! It got us out of there! You’re welcome!”

“What if _he_ **_heard_ **you? I am going to be in so much trouble. I told you he has voracious temper!”

“I’ll buy him candy and cigarettes!”

“You better!”

“Fine!”

“Why are we yelling!”

“I don’t know!”

“It’s kind of fun, but I need to rest my voice!”

“I’ll see you at home!”

“Love you!” Both shout.

They both give each other a quick hug before they head off in different directions.


	3. The Gala

The entire company of the Opera has gathered in the Pink Room, named for the tacky pink walls and strange shaggy carpet of a blood orange color. Raoul and Reyer are the leads of this meeting. They brought a white board and handouts for this presentation.

“We are separating everyone into groups of six. You will remain with your group for the entire evening. No exceptions.” Raoul turned to Reyer, his turn to speak.

“This is especially important. Clarotta, when you receive your honor, you will not make a speech, nor will you sing or offer to sing, or make requests for requests. You will be humble; you say your thanks and bow and then leave the stage.”

Before Clarotta could offer her rebuttal, Raoul spoke: “We are not there to perform. We are not dance monkeys.”

“There is a two-drink limit. Say this with me, there is a two-drink limit.”

“ _There is a two-drink limit.”_ The company repeated unenthusiastically.

“You will promote our company, the Opera, our season.”

“We need the money.”

“Yes. Am I forgetting anything?”

“The attire!”

“Ah, yes. This is a black-tie event.”

Joe raised his hand and looked around awkwardly before lowering it lamely. Raoul nodded at him, encouraging him to speak.

“We’re poor.” He said slowly. The group muttered agreement. Raoul coughed. He is not.

“Black slacks, white shirt, black jacket/blazer of some kind. You don’t—we don’t expect you to show up in a tuxedo.” Reyer says this like it was obvious. He also, is poor, but he has the clothing required for all occasions. You make it work!

“Everyone look out for Christine and Meg, they are still minors and our youngest members of our Opera family.”

“I’m _sixteen_ , not six.” Meg pouts.

“Eighteen and her roommate and self-appointed guardian. I got this.” Christine winks and points at him playfully.

“We are all adults. This is a very grown up party. Treat everyone like you would your grandparent.”

“My grandma was a bitch.” Jess says before she can help herself.

“Unfortunate. Treat everyone like someone you respect.”

“Tom Hanks.”

“Lea Salonga.”

“Orpheus.” Meg says in a dream like state.

Raoul puts his hand up to end this.

“Okay, I didn’t mean for everyone to name someone. Just pretend you are always talking to that person and behave.”

“Do not mention anything about ghosts, hauntings or accidents. If anyone dares to even say the word, “phantom.”

“Don’t do it.”

* * *

**24 hours before the Gala.**

**“** I don’t know if I have anything black tiey.” Christine sorts through her closet. She has a very colorful wardrobe and is not ashamed. She likes to shine bright like the Sun. She wants to walk with Apollo.

“I have my Zatana costume.” Meg says. She also, likes bright pretty things. Her parents do not, so she’s got to rebel.

“Hm. I have black pants, a white shirt and suspenders. I wear that when I feel noir. Think that would work?” Christine frowns. She pulls out the long-sleeved white shirt, to show Meg, who nods.

“I dig it.”

“I could wear a dark scarf like it’s a tie?”

“And I’ll wear my top hat and preform magic tricks.”

“We got this.” They say together.

They both nod.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**.

“This is a terrible idea. Everyone will get drunk, “Lord Chauncey” will hit on Meg and try to back her into a corner. Carlotta will sing. She has been dying, dying to sing “ _On My Own,”_ and I’m not OK with that.” Reyer paces around Raoul’s office.

“Reyer.”

“They’ll talk about the accidents.”

“Reyer.”

“We won’t get the money we need. We will be forced to close; I will have to go back to teaching Theatre to high school students. I cannot do that again. Oh, god. Middle school students. Their voices are still—”

Raoul grabs the other man by the shoulders and forces him to be still.

“Reyer. Breathe. In and out. In and out.” Reyer does. Raoul and Reyer both inhale and exhale together, rhythmically.

“It will be fine. We will get the money we need and even if we do not, I can find it. Carlotta will not sing because we came to an agreement. No one will take the hauntings seriously and it may inspire curiosity and be beneficial. Do not worry about the Phantom. We are friends now. Right, buddy?”

Raoul knocks on the wall. A second later, a knock is returned. Raoul felt that the response was sarcastic and could have done without the attitude

* * *

**The Gala**

“Can I speak German? I mean, I can _sing_ in it. . . “

“Ha. Ha. Jazz hands. Yes. We can do that. I’ve also been trained in ballet, jazz, I can foxtrot. . . “

“I’m twelve.” Meg stiffens. Christine puts her arm around her, and they stare pointedly at the man.

“And?”

Christine with wide eyes then pulls Meg along with her and they shuffle away from him. Reyer runs past them.

“Carlotta,” he hisses,” I know that’s your fourth drink!” He is shaking with rage and embarrassment. Carlotta narrows her eyes and ignore him. Raoul grabs it from her casually as he walks by.

“You know the rules,” he says as turns his head. He hands the drink off to a member of the wait staff and they enter the back to the service area.

Raoul joins Reyer and puts an arm around his shoulder. This puts the man at ease.

“No one is following the rules. Joe is talking about the Phantom, Carlotta is trying to give me a heart attack, and everyone is separated.”

“Lord Chauncey gave us twenty grand.”

“Oh, thank the maker.”

“He’ll give us thirty more for, “that pretty ripe young blonde,”

“We’re not accepting his donation.”

“No.”

Reyer feels the heart attack coming. Raoul rubs his back, and this offers some comfort.

“We’ll get the money. Don’t worry. Enjoy the show.” He gestures to the crowd around him.

“Carole came with George, but she’s going to leave with Paul over there, he’s married to Marti, but it’s just not working out anymore. Sam here,” Raoul points to a pretty dark haired older woman,” wants to have an affair because she hasn’t had sex in ten years, but no one has the interest since she has such a pure reputation, too much respect for her you see, to even fathom such a notion.”

Reyer is impressed.

“How’d you know all this?”

“I have ears and use them.”

A couple walks by.

“What’s their story?”

“Well,” he begins. The host of the event walks by and to the front of the room. He brings the room to silence.

“We will now begin the ceremony!”

The room cleared out and onto the next room.

“And now we present a very special award to—” Before the host could finish his sentence Carlotta ran to the front and grabbed the trophy.

Reyer bit his lip and crossed his fingers. He closed his eyes, because he could not see, not watch, the horror that he knew would come.

“I would like to thank everyone for this honor. You are why I do this.” She smiled, she looked like she had just swallowed glass. She bowed her head and quickly went back to her seat.

“What?” Reyer looked over to Raoul.

“I told you. We have an arrangement.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

* * *

**That Night, In the Office.**

Raoul exhales deeply. He knew he would have to have this talk sooner or later. He just wish it didn’t have to be him all the time. He felt a bit silly sometimes, but it must be done. No one is around, so it’s not like anyone can burst in and call him insane.

He hops. He needs to prepare. He can do this. He rolls his shoulders, stretches his arms. He goes over to the mini bar he had installed for conversations such as this one.

“We need to talk.” He says, as he pours a shot of Jack. He shakes his head.

“Promise you will listen before you react.”

He takes another shot.

“Because I know you will probably vomit blood.”

Raoul drinks straight from the bottle.

“It’s about Carlotta.”

He finishes the bottle.

“IgaveherFantine.”

And then Raoul waited for hell.


	4. Trust me, I'm Raoul.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust Raoul, he's got your back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm combining characters into one character, like Reyer and Mercier are technically the same person anyway, but going to the book, his name is Mercier so, whatever, also, should have said, this is a modern version, using modern technology, musicals, opera and so on. Got questions on certain references that come up you're confused about? ask and I will explain.  
> The song I'm listening as I edit this is, Showstopping Number, from the guy who doesn't like musicals, bless Starkid.

Christine wakes with a start. Her heart is beating like she just finished a marathon, her breathing haggard. Something terrible is about to happen, is going to happen, is happening, has happened. The first time she felt this way had been when her father first had taken ill, and then again, the night he died

She grabs her chest, the material of her night dress and tries to calm down. The feeling is intense. It is in her bones, her blood. Her heart is screaming. She gets out of bed and stumbles in the dark to her young charge/roommate. What terrible guardian would she be if she let something happen to little Meg? Her mother put a lot of trust in her.

“ _Meg is our only child. We place the only thing we genuinely love into your care. Do not make me regret this.”_

Christine can hear the Madame’s voice in her ears. She opens the door, perhaps a bit too roughly and turns on the light.

Meg is halfway out of the window. She stops dead. She slowly turns and faces Christine. Her eyes wide. It takes a moment for her to process the situation, her smile forms slowly. The caught teenager facing the music, her latest role.

“Hurry up, slut!” Comes the voice of The Boyfriend, from outside. Christine eyes narrow. She hates The Boyfriend.

“Goodnight, Rodney!” Christine calls out. Meg climbs back inside the room and Rodney bids a clumsy farewell.

“Can this be something we laugh about, and you don’t tell my mother?” Meg’s eyes plead forgiveness and understanding.

“Are you going to stay in bed?” Christine glares at the window. Meg steps away from it and hops on her bed.

“I can do that, yes.” Her voice high and uneven.

“You _will_ do that.” Christine uses the Mom Voice.

Meg bows her head in shame.

“Yes.”

Christine places her finger on the light switch.

“Goodnight.”

She closes the door.

“Teenagers.” She scoffs. The horrible feeling returns. Her Angel! She runs back to her room, she clumsily, sloppily grabs her phone, it fumbles in her hands, she finds the thread and texts a quick message.

She holds the phone tightly. The seconds that pass feel like years.

 **_Angel of Music  
_ ** _I am well. Go to sleep._

Ah! Such sweet relief. She kisses her phone, as if to kiss him and worry melts away. The two most important people in her life are safe and well. She returns to bed, her heart full of love, not dread.

* * *

Raoul has never felt such pain in his life. He is on all fours gasping for air. His vison is blurry and spotty. He cannot focus on objects. He forgot what he had been doing and what led to this.

It all comes back to him like a flash flood. His brain over processing. He feels ill again.

Erik is upset. He remembers that much. He does not remember what direction he had come at him, but boy does he pack a punch for a ghost.

_He is not a real ghost._

Raoul spits out blood and coughs. He can breathe now. He dares not to look up. Erik taps his foot impatiently. He is waiting for an explanation, pleas for forgiveness, lots, and lots of begging, and promises to make it better.

Mercier Reyer helps him up.

“That was your arrangement? Are you completely mad?” Reyer adjust Raoul’s collar and tie. He dusts off his shoulders and smooths out the wrinkles.

“I didn’t say it was a pleasant one.” Raoul says lamely. He can taste his blood. He needs more alcohol.

“Next question _, do you hate me_?” Reyer rests his head against his friend’s chest. He wants to cry.

“I don’t hate either of you. I just needed her to cooperate!”

“Why? Just get rid of her.” Erik cleans Raoul from his perfect white gloves. Peasants can stain something fierce. He frowns beneath his mask. He may need to burn this pair.

“She has a contract. There would be legal ramifications.” Raoul says. He steadies his friend and looks around the office.

“Not if she’s dead.” Erik says this a bit too casually and comes across as an offer. Reyer squeaks.

“We talked about this. I agreed to keep up your charade of being a ghost, you don’t kill my people, and you get your demands met, and you agreed not to _murder_ anyone while I was here.”

“You ask so much of me.” Erik sighs, he is bored of the company.

“Anyway.”

“She’s not going to perform as Fantine if you want my end of the bargain met.”

“Erik. I _promise_ I will think of something.” Raoul put his hands together. He walked over to the man. He grabs his gloved hands and fights Erik’s resistance.

“Trust me. I promise it will work out. Carlotta will go back to the ensemble after the opening night. She will _beg_ for it. “

Raoul reaches out for Reyer too.

“I promise the both of you, this will be OK. It will work out. Sorelli will be Fantine the next night. There will be no interference from Clarotta. Just come to the show and relax. You will see. Have some faith in your Raoul.”

Erik considers this. He carefully removes his hand from Raoul’s, walks up right behind and grabs his neck gently, like a deadly lover. He leans in and whispers something into his ear.

Raoul pales and nods. Satisfied, Erik releases him.

“We’re all good? Great. Who wants a drink?” Reyer holds up a bottle of gin. The other two men approach eagerly.

* * *

The next morning could not come soon enough. Reyer cried out as soon as they came into the main lobby of the Opera House.

"Well, at least he isn't overacting and trusting." Raoul says to Reyer.

There are three effigies in hangman's noose waiting for all to see. Moncharmin and Firmin pretend they are not unsettled. Christine, Sorelli and Meg nearly faint at the sight. Their male castmates lead them away, to better sights.

Carlotta scoffs, and holds her head high. She hits one of the figures as she passes. It falls on her, she squeals, but regains her composure quickly. The managers scream for the atrocity to be removed.

* * *

Guy and Manny looked at each other for a second. This had been something they have been dying for and now they had the actual permission to do it.

“Are you serious?” Manny asked over the radio, on the channel Raoul told them he is using.

“ _I trust you know the cue.”_

And that settles that. The two men of the sound board laughed. Their fellow techies rejoiced. They made a mad dash and locked the booth. Tonight, is going to be a good night indeed.

* * *

This is it. Her moment. The lights were all on her now. _Lea Salonga and Ruthie Henshall can eat my ass._

She smiled, inhaled and exhaled quietly and opened her mouth to sing, and as she began _Cotton eye Joe_ violated her senses.

The catchy song erupted throughout the theatre. Clarlotta looked around, this had to be a dream, a waking nightmare. She pinched her arms, slapped her face, she tried to sing over the blaring song, the audience was amused/confused. Some were unsure if this was supposed to happen or what.

Moncharmin and Firmin rushed to the stage demanding this be put to an end.

“ _You don’t like this song? Oh. We can try another.”_

 _Cotton-Eye Joe_ ended and _Barbie Girl,_ by Aqua took its place.

Unsure how to handle this, Clarotta’s cast members began to dance, in character. Meg, as Eponine tried to get sweet crush’s attention and they danced playfully, Christine as Cosette danced sweetly with her Valjean. The people loved it. Clarotta ran off the stage in tears.

Reyer did not know if he should console her, thank the gods for this, hate the gods for this, or if he owed Raoul a drink. He could kiss the man! However, that wouldn’t be a good idea, as his lover is in the crowd somewhere waiting, and they had a nasty jealous temper, and their sofa had a spring that poked the dickens out of his back and he needed a good night’s sleep.

Firmin shouted until his voice became hoarse.

_“Let’s try this out then, dear manager.”_

_Man I fee like a woman_ plays next.

The techies in the booth have their own little dance party, Manny and Guy remain their DJ’s. Who needs Daft Punk? They have a lip sync battle. They ignore the pounding of the door. Guy turns up the volume and he queues the next piece of music.

“Let’s get back to theater. All rise for the national anthem!”

Manny hits play.

_Wait for me,” Hadestown._

“The national anthem?”

“You know, this week.”

Meg cannot help herself. She runs over to Christine and the two of them lip sync to the song perfectly. They hold out their hands towards each other and they walk backwards before they run forward, they circle each other, so close, so far, teasingly unfair. The cast from both sides grabs the two and they are raised into the air and are separated. The cast has left the stage, the lights finally go out.

“I pity the men who try to come between those two.” Reyer whispers to Raoul.


	5. Indoor Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul tries to recover from a rough night

“Have a rough weekend?” Reyer asks as he and Raoul enter the Opera House together. Raoul is sporting shades and he is walking awkwardly.

“Indoor voices, M.” He says in a low hoarse voice, just a notch above a whisper.

“What was that?” Reyer asks, raising his voice. Raoul rubs his temples. He moans in pain. Reyer looks up.

“I don’t know about you, but I think there is something off with the lighting. I’m going to have them turn it up. This is not a witches house.”

“That’s not necessary. The lights are fine.” Raoul’s voice is rough and low. He is not feeling it today. Reyer walks with Raoul to his office. Raoul sits down at his desk and folds his arms and rests his head.

“How about some music?” He turns on the radio and turns up the volume. Raoul sits up, curses and he throws pens at Reyer.

“You’re an evil, evil, man.” Reyer giggles like a naughty boy and lowers the volume. Raoul covers his head with his suit jacket and tries to sleep again.

“I think we should bring Carlotta and have her run through scales. I swear she’s singing in Z sharp at this point.”

“Sssh.”

“Why don’t we get the orchestra,”

“Sleepy sleep time now. I will pay you to stop talking.”

Moncharmin and Firmin choose that moment to enter, they are in a rage. Winnie, the head of costumes, is why. She is hitting both of them with her balled up hands and is shouting curses at them.

Raoul lifts his head, not bothering to remove the jacket protection.

“Indoor voices!” He’s voice is still rough and low. Reyer has to whistle for the others to stop.

“That bitch has done it again! She stole Sorelli and Christine’s costumes and destroyed them! We have the final performance in two hours. I do not have the time to build two new costumes in that amount of time!” Winnie is not one to complain. She finds solutions. This is serious.

“And we will not abide such claims! You have no proof—”

“No proof, no proof! She told Reyer she did it, I found them in the trash of her dressing room, what an intelligent vandal, you throw away the evidence in your private room, lest we be so lucky she ever commits a more vile crime, look no further than her bathroom! I’ll bet she’ll try to flush the body!”

“My good woman,” Moncharmin starts. Reyer is enjoying this and leans back against the wall and rests his chin on his folded hands.

“My name is Winnie! This is not acceptable.” She is shaking with anger. Reyer is surprised she has not turned over any furniture.

“How long has this been going on?” Raoul taps his throat, trying to get it at a better octave.

“Years! I thought you would finally put a stop to it Raoul, I thought you cared, I started to believe that we had a manager who gave a damn about his people, about the productions, not wanting to keep princess talentless prima donna’s happy! What good is having a prima donna, if she fucks with everything that goes into the play, or musical, or opera? What happens when we start the ballet? Will she set something on fire until she can sing again?”

“I do care.”

“Madame, your managers are very much concerned for your well being and having productions that run smoothly.”

“You have lost your right to speak to me. I am speaking to my manager,” Winnie points to Raoul, who still has the jacket covering his head.

“With all do respect Raoul is not your manager. We are.” Firmin gestures to himself and Moncharmin.

“Can we buy a costume or rent something?” Raoul asks.

“I have my girls making calls and running around now, but that’s just a bandage on an infected wound.”

“Carlotta cannot be fired for property damage. It’s a very intense contract, however, she will pay for this. Literally. Buy or rent new costumes, it will come out of her salary. She will be disqualified from auditions for the next production. She will work with your team.”

“I,” Winnie sighs,” I accept this. Thank you, Raoul.” Winnie glares at Firmin and Moncharmin.

“Sssh.” Raoul has his index finger at his lips. He lays his head back down and tries to fall into darkness. Sweet, sweet sleep.

“This is not what we agreed to Raoul! You are our patron; you have no stake or claim to the Opera! We are the managers.”

“Such good managers.” Reyer mutters.

“And you!”

“Yes, me. You’re such a good manager, right? What is my name?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“So, you know my name then.”

“I know his name.” Raoul says half-asleep.

“We do not have time for this.”

“Ah, so you don’t.”

“It’s Frederick.”

“Is it?”

“Yes!” Moncharmin and Firmin look to Raoul for confirmation. He is now asleep.

Reyer walks around the men, he places the jacket over Raoul as more of a blanket.

“Want to try it again?”

“This is,”

“Winnie holds a valid point. You don’t know anyone. If you want people to respect you, you should try to take some kind of interest. If not to just learn names. That’s why others refer to Raoul as their manager. He’s around. He cares. He makes things happen for us. He keeps **_Erik_** happy.”

“Who is Erik?”

“I’ve said too much.” Reyer’s eyes grow wide. He realizes his mistake. He makes a hasty exit.

“Who is Erik?” Firmin shrugs.


	6. Carlotta Meets a Ghost

Sorelli, Christine, Carlotta and several other vocalists are in the Pink Room. The Conductor of the orchestra is holding this meeting.

“Raoul wants stricter training and I agree. We finally have a manager whose head isn’t up his ass. Now that means we will have longer rehearsals and I expect that each of you will keep training even on your days off and make no mistake I will check up on each of you.”

He walks in front of the company of vocalists and stops in front of Sorelli.

“You are fairly new to the singing. You impressed Raoul and Reyer with your audition for Fantine. Does dance no longer excite you?”

“Can’t I do both?” She asks like he’s an idiot.

“Perhaps you’ll be forced to choose.”

“Am I?”

“We shall see.”

He continues to walk the line and he stops at Carlotta.

“Ah, our prima donna.”

“You’re welcome.”

The Conductor turns around to face the pianist, Dana.

“Let’s see. I want you to run through the scales.”

“Run through scales? I’m sure you did not gather us here for such—”

“If you know your scales then this shouldn’t be an issue,” The Conductor nods for Dana to begin.

Dana does his part, Carlotta does not. The others whisper their lack of surprise and annoyances.

“There is something wrong with the piano.” Carlotta snaps. Dana shakes his head. He runs through the scales. The Conductor agrees, it’s not the piano.

“Dana, Carlotta, again.”

And again. Dana does his part.

“Perhaps it’s the player! Where did you “learn,” have you not been properly trained?”

“I have a Masters of Music Education and specializations in the organ and piano.” Dana says flatly.

“Did you buy those?”

“I don’t fuck my way through life like you.” He says coolly.

“Dana, please. Carlotta it appears that you need some re-education. We’ll set you up with a vocal coach for lessons. You will learn the proper scales and vocal arrangements.”

“I have no need—”

“If you want to stay in this company you will comply.”

“I’ve never,”

“Exactly. That is the problem. Now moving on.”

-

* * *

Raoul is still sleeping off last night. Carlotta enters in a rage. She gives slight pause when she sees a strange man in a gold mask that covers their entire face tending to a sleeping Raoul.

“Who are you?” She asks huffily. She does not like being surprised or strangers. Golden Boy says nothing, he looks up at her, before he goes back to tending Raoul. Raoul mutters something. He lifts Raoul’s head and tilts it back, he parts his lips to open his mouth, and pours some kind of liquid into his mouth.

Raoul coughs and wakes up in a daze.

“Trying to drown me?”

“Tempting.” Golden Boy says teasingly in Raoul’s voice. Raoul makes a face. He is not amused.

“No. Don’t do that.”

“ _No. Don’t do that_.” Again, in Raoul’s voice.

Raoul glares like a petulant child and lays his head back down.

“Sweet dreams, darling.” He lovingly pets Raoul’s head like a good little Sasha. Carlotta clears her throat. Golden Boy looks up.

“I need to speak with him or my manager.”

Golden Boy looks around, mockingly, then faces her.

“I don’t see anyone. Take your leave now.” He picks up a letter opener. It is of great interest. Reyer enters.

“Raoul, we have. Oh.” Reyer is unsure how to play this. Carlotta turns on him.

“I will not let this insult stand!”

“Oh. Well, to be fair Winnie isn’t wrong and you’re lucky that’s all that’s happening.”

“What?”

“This isn’t about the costumes?”

“No!” She stomps her foot. She is in a rage. A toddler rage. Reyer and his partner had wanted to raise a child for years, have a little family, go to school functions and fight with teachers, family vacations and petty teenager fights, but then his partner met Carlotta, saw how this “adult” behaved and quickly changed their mind.

_“It means that we can now use that money to travel more, lover.”_

“You’re paying for the damages and new costumes. What “insult” are you referring to?” Reye looks over at Golden Boy quickly before returning his attention to Carlotta.

“That fool of a conductor says I need lessons! Vocal lessons! He doesn’t believe I know my scales.”

Golden Boy makes a strange sound, like laughter, but more sinister and insidious. Carlotta places her hand at her throat instinctively. Her body becomes very cold.

“You sing in a key that I do not recognize. I think it’s a good idea if you want to continue with us.” Reyer says as calmly and collectively he can.

“If she disagrees, I will come up with a more permeant solution.” Golden Boy turns the letter opener with his fingers, it catches light and reflects in Reyer and Carlotta’s eyes. The threat is not lost on either of them.

“I will pay all of you to stop talking.” Raoul says, still half asleep. He smacks his lips and adjusts his head and sleeping position.

“Raoul, will you not do something?”

“Raoul’s asleep, I refer to my partners.” Raoul says.

“Where are Moncharmin an Firmin.” She asks sighing.

“He means me and uh,” Reyer nods at Golden Boy.

“You take the lessons, or I kill you.” Golden Boy says. His voice delicate, powerful, melodic. He means it.

“And just who are you to threaten me?”

“Oh, here we go.” Reyer sighs, he rubs the bridge of nose. He doesn’t need to deal with this today. If he has to clean up more blood stains and help haul out another body, he will just riot! Raoul promised those days were over when he took over!

“Me,” he walks over to her, Carlotta backs away, but as she turns around to flee, he’s there. He holds her in an embrace and his face dangerously close to touching her ear with his asked lips

“Boo.” He sings. He runs his gloved hands through her hair.

“I- don’t understand.”

“Carlotta, this is the Phantom of our Opera.” Reyer says bitterly. He needs a drink.

“The? Him!?”

“The Phantom. Yes.” His tone almost flirtations. Carlotta tries to move from his hold, but alas It is not to be.

“Will you take your lessons?” He moves his hand from the side of her face to her throat, he merely caresses, soft touches.

She nods.

“Good!” He releases her hold and goes back around the desk to Raoul.

Carlotta gets the hell out of there. Reyer hangs is head, he feels like he just lost something. Raoul is in sleeping bliss, and Erik is slightly sad he doesn't get to kill the bitch. Tomorrow is another day, however.


	7. Raoul Steps Back

Raoul ended up spending the entire day and sleeping over in his office. He woke up to the sweet godly smell of coffee. A fresh steaming cup waits for him. He enjoys his cup, sits back. Perhaps it will be a good day. Surprise coffee, no hangover, Carlotta situation handled. He just needs to have a pesky meeting with Moncharmin and Firmin, see what production he and Reyer can agree on for the next month, and see what demands Erik has, if anything new.

Moncharmin and Firmin enter and Raoul smiles and just waits for it. Bank details, accounting, reviews they should be aware of, some gossip on the competition of the other theaters

“We would like to discuss your role.” Moncharmin says.

“My role?” Raoul asks. He had not expected that.

“We feel that you should take a step back. We brought you on as our financer, not as another manager.”

Raoul digests this. Raoul loves the players and the Opera house. Sure, there are things that cause him great stress, he hasn’t been able to see his family or have much of a social life, but he has very little regrets. Though, taking a step back could be a good thing. Maybe Moncharmin and Firmin will use this as a learning experience and smarten up.

“If you feel that I have overstepped my bounds, then certainly I understand. I shall, as you say, take a step back.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Raoul nods and continue to casually drink his coffee. Moncharmin and Firmin stare at him. Raoul gets their hint.

“You mean, now.”

They nod.

“Ah.”

Raoul gathers his things and leaves the office.

\--

* * *

“I thought Carlotta wasn’t allowed to have a part for this production.” Jess says.

“Carlotta is our star.”

“She’s also a fucking bitch and vandal.” Jess snaps.

“My good woman,”

“Where is Raoul? Does he know you’re doing this?” The other players mumble and ask the same thing.

“Raoul is not your manager, I am, Firmin is.”

“Fuck that, where is our real manager?”

“As I have said, Raoul is not your manager and we agreed for him to take a step back and keep to his role of financer.”

“I quit.”

Jess walks away.

“You have a contract!”

“Not with you!” She calls out as she fades from view. Several others share the same sentiment and join Jess.

“You all have contracts! This is unacceptable!”

He is ignored.

\--

* * *

“I don’t want to be the dance captain, I sing now.” Sorelli says, her patience nonexistent. She taps her foot and does not bother to look at either of the men.

“You are a dancer, it is in your—”

“Reyer and Raoul said I could sing. Meg is the dance captain.”

“Meg is too young, too immature. She lacks the—”

“Then give her the experience by keeping her as the dance captain.”

“Sorelli we do not want you to waste your talents. You are a dancer, not a vocalist.”

“I quit.”

As Sorelli storms off and shoots them rude gestures and swears them out in Italian, Reyer passes her.

“Reyer, we may have some minor setbacks.”

“Do we?” He hands them a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Firmin asks.

“My official resignation.”

He walks away

\--

* * *

Moncharmin and Firmin walk into the office to find Meg spinning around on the swivel chair.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh! Hello. Um. What?”

“Do you need something?” Firmin asks.

“Do I need something.” She repeats awkwardly like she is waiting for an assist.

“Is this about your position being revoked?”

“No? It’s Friday and I’m here so, just waiting for the door to be unlocked. Raoul lets me wait.”

“What door? Meg, if you’re not needed here and you’re done for the day, go home.”

“Yes, right home. Mm-hm.” She nods.

“Leave now, please.”

“Uh huh, leaving now!” She picks up two suitcases and leaves the office.

“What are we going to do? Everyone is quitting.” Firmin exhales. He goes over to the mini and pours himself a drink.

“They cannot leave the Opera, not legally. They are all still under contract.”

“Does that really matter? They can still refuse to show up, while we take action and wait for the settlement.”

“It won’t last. They will want the money and these are creative people; they’ll die without their “art.” Just wait it out. They’ll come back tomorrow and if not then, within a week.”

Firmin prays that the other man is right as he drinks his whiskey.

\--

Turns out Moncharmin is very much not correct, more of the players quit each day, including all of the orchestra, they’ve received several threatening notes from that damn “O.G” character, and to matters much worse, there have been two accidental deaths, which Moncharmin and Firmin were found at fault by the investigators for lack of upkeep of the chandeliers and the master of the flyers hung himself.

They have no stage manager and they have been locked out their office for several days now.

So, they swallowed some of their pride are currently outside Raoul’s the front door of Raoul’s stately home.

\--

* * *

Raoul is very much not sober. He is wearing his lounge clothes, his yummy sushi PJ’s and a blue robe. He is happily day drinking and not so happily losing chess to a ghost.

“I find it very disturbing that you know where I live.” He moves his knight, and immediately regrets that decision.

“Check.”

The doorbell rings.

“I didn’t order pizza.”

He walks to the door with Erik at his heels, just to make sure he does not fall. He steadies him as Raoul tilts a bit too much to the left before he opens the door.

Moncharmin and Firmin are outside.

“Ah, guests! What do you want? How’s the Opera. Offering door to door tickets? No room at the inn.” Raoul closes the door. He opens it a few seconds later.

“Well?” He motions for them to come, they do hesitantly.

“What can I do you for. What can I do for you?”

“We may have been, rash in asking you to step back.” Raoul takes a step back. Erik holds him in place with one hand.

“I’ve had schnapps.” He giggles before he forces himself into slight composure.

“We’re very proud, dear.” Erik says. Moncharmin and Firmin are extremely uncomfortable by this masked stranger’s presence.

Raoul leans in towards Moncharmin and Firmin, like he wants to disclose a secret.

 _“I don’t know how he found my house._ ” He whispers. He leans backwards, Erik catches him with grace and without effort or strain.

“You invited my little Marguerite to your home. I did not know you then. I had to protect her honor.”

“I invited the _entire_ company for a _dinner_ to show appreciation and to celebrate with them a thus far successful season, I did not invite her over for some eyes wide shut nonsense!” He crosses him arms like a stubborn teenager fighting with their uncool and totally overreacting parent.

Erik simply pats Raoul’s cheek.

“Why am I suddenly sober? What mad sorcery is this?” Raoul glares at Erik

“You’re of no use to me inebriated.” Masked lips “kiss” Raoul’s cheek.

“Who is Marguerite?” Moncharmin and Firmin ask.

“Marguerite, Marguerite!” Raoul snaps. He waves his hands wildly.

“She is?”

“Why are you here How did you find my home?”

“We know where you live because you’ve invited us over before?” Firmin says, questioning his friend’s sanity.

“Ah. Yes. I have.”

“They lost control” Erik sings. It’s smooth like velvet and it is pleasant to the ears and senses. Firmin and Moncharmin find themselves leaning towards the Mask Man, wanting to know him, hear more from him. It takes them a moment to recover.

“Control?”

“The Opera.”

“Ah.”

“We, may have been rash.”

“Perhaps you do have certain capabilities that we do not have.”

“Yes.”

A beat.

“What’s that?”

“They want you back.” Erik translates.

“If I’m sober,” Raoul says to Erik,” what is that?” He points to something in the corner.

“Ah, Side effects. Don’t worry about that.” Erik runs his fingers through Raoul's hair.

“Should we come back, Raoul? When you’re alone and in a better state?”

“My estate is fine. I have it cleaned daily. I’ll go back.”

“Not so fast, little darling. There are of course conditions.” Erik wags his finger.

“I want to be a manager. You stay with the books away from everything and Carlotta-“

“Dies.” Erik is hopeful.

“Is not allowed to audition for the next production.” Raoul says to Erik.

“Fine, fine. We’ll take it.”

“Good! There we are then!” Raoul spins around only to fall onto face down.

“I could have caught him.” Erik says lightly.

Moncharmin and Firmin make a hasty retreat.

\--

* * *

Reyer and Raoul enter the Opera the next morning. Raoul is sporting shades.

“Rough night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hm. These lights should be brighter.”

“They’re fine.”

“Say, how about we head over and check in with the orchestra.”

Raoul rubs his temples. This is going to be a long day.

“Say, are you hungry? How about we get some eggs,” Reyer continues to prattle as the two men continue their trek to his office.

“I hate you so much,” Raoul says as he opens the door and lets the other man in.

This is where Raoul is meant to be.


	8. The Birthday

Meg is not prepared for it when Carlotta appears in front of her out of seemingly from nowhere. Meg squeals and is taken aback. Carlotta strides forward and Meg has no one else to go but accept her fate: a conversation with the diva.

“What are you doing tonight?” It is more of a demand than a question. Meg feels like she is about to receive detention. Meg has not been in a formal school setting since she was 12 and in a Canadian boarding school, but she vaguely remembers detention and this sick feeling she feels, and this is it.

“I’m actually having a movie night with my Papa. He’s going to be busy this weekend, so we’re spending evenings together to make up for it.”

Carlotta is not paying attention. She pushes a card into the young dancer’s chest.

“Attach the gift receipt to the bag. Do not be late.”

Meg looks at the card and then back to the empty space that Carlotta had been.

“What just happened?”

\--

* * *

Christine is in the dressing room changing. She checks herself out in the mirror, fixes her hair and turns around to come face to face with Carlotta.

Christine screams, Carlotta is unfazed and unimpressed.

Christine does a quick glance back to the mirror and then back to Carlotta.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m going to spend a quiet evening at home. Meg is going to see her Papa tonight and I—”

Carlotta hands her a similar card that she gave Meg.

“Attach the receipt to the gift bag.”

She storms off.

Christine looks back to the mirror. Yes, it is reflecting. She bites her lip in fear.

“ _She has no soul._ . .“ She says a few Hail Mary’s and prays.

\--

* * *

Meg, Christine, Raoul, and Reyer arrived at the specified place at the specified time according to the card they each received. They are escorted to a private room in the back of the restaurant.

There is an oval table set, wine and water are waiting.

“What did you bring?” Meg asks Christine.

“I got her a box of sweets.” She holds up her pink gift bag.

“I got her Sangria.” Reyer and Raoul say.

“I got her a wind-up toy. A harlequin dances to music as it plays.”

“That sounds nice.” Christine questions if her gift isn’t enough.

“Yeah, Papa made it years ago, but I don’t like clowns anymore.” Meg shudders.

“So, are we the only ones here or are we early?”

“I’m sure others will show up.”

“What time did Carlotta say she would be here?”

They stand awkwardly in the room. Carlotta eventually shows up, her dress gives her the appearance of a waddling avocado. She does not address anyone as she goes to the head of the table.

She picks up a wine glass, finishes it one gulp. She aggressively waves for the others to join her at the table. They do.

“Thank you for the invitation Carlotta. What are we celebrating if anything?” Raoul says in a soft, delicate voice.

“What do you think?” She snaps. She sits down. The others follow her lead.

“Birthday?” Meg suggests, in a quiet awkward tone.

“Yes.” She holds out her wine glass and shakes it, a server appears and refills her glass.

“Happy birthday.” The other says at different times, somewhat together, not a full commitment to unison.

The temperature of the room is cold. Reyer, Raoul, Christine and Meg have no idea what to say, how to act, or what to do. No one dares to look at each other or their hostess. No one speaks for what feels like hours when it has only been a few minutes.

“Did you have any plans?” Meg asks, she feels like she is shrinking with each passing second. She’s Alice and she drank the wrong potion.

“Don’t be an idiot. This,” she gestures around,” is what I’m doing.”

“How has your day been?” Christine asks, trying to keep conversation going. The silence is painful.

“What do you think? You were there. I spent the day at the Opera House.”

“Were you able to connect with family? You are from Spain, no? A phone call? Face call?” Reyer does not know why he’s trying now.

“I’m from Spain yes, and no. I did not speak with my family.”

“Is anyone else coming?”

“No.”

The tension in the room is oppressive. Meg feels weighed down, the walls and ceiling are closing in and she has to get out before that happens, or she’ll be a Meg sandwich.

“So, has anyone seen Tiger King?” Reyer slaps the side of his face after asking that. This causes the group to murmur answers, the tik tok song, and. “she totally did it, how is el chapo the sane one, meth is bad mmkay,”

“Carol Baskin! Killed, her, husband, whacked him, can’t convince me it didn’t happen,” Christine sings in a powerful operatic voice.

“That is impressive!”

Carlotta abruptly stands up and leaves the room. This gives the other pause, before they continue to discuss theories.

Meg quietly leaves.

\--

* * *

Meg stares at her reflection in the bathroom. She pulls at her face, pouts her lips, tosses her hair, does a full head swing like she’s One of Those Girls In the Music Video. She always wanted to dance on a car.

She does a quick spin jump and poses. She points at her reflection and sticks out her tongue.

She’s about to leave but something stops her. Sobbing, sniffles. Meg feels her heart drop to the floor. She looks around, she wants to leave, crying alone in the bathroom, should not be heard, you want to be alone, hence crying in the bathroom.

Meg is hesitant. She could leave, pretend this didn’t happen, and they could keep their pride and dignity.

Or she could stay.

Meg feels like her mind and body are at war. She sways back and forth trying to decide, mentally and physically what she should do.

Meg knocks on the closed stall, the crying ceases.

“Carlotta, are you okay?” Meg places her palms on the stall.

“I-I’m fine. Go away!” Her voice breaks. She is not fine. Meg frowns. She does not move.

“Carlotta, it’s okay not to be fine.”

“Go away, Meg!” Carlotta snaps, her voice hoarse.

“I can’t do that. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I said go away!” Meg jumps back, Carlotta must have kicked the door.

“Carlotta, I’m not going anywhere, and I’d prefer not to talk through stalls. Can I come in?”

“Fine, if it’ll shut you up.”

Meg, being Meg, crawls inside the stall.

“I was going to unlock it.” Carlotta is somewhat amused. Meg looks up at her, embarrassed.

“That would have made more sense.”

“Silly, fool.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know, you won’t tell me.”

“This is my birthday party!”

“Yes.”

“You all hate me!”

Meg does not know how to respond to that and remains silent. Carlotta takes her silence for agreement and starts to sob again.

“We don’t hate you; we’re frustrated with you.” Meg says softly. She slowly stands to her feet.

“Same difference.”

“No. If you were just a little bit nicer, it would make all the difference. You don’t have to be the diva all the time.”

“You are such a baby, has anyone told you that? Of course I have to be the diva, if I stop someone else will replace me. That’s how this life works. You don’t get anywhere by being nice, you kill the career of others, of the best. What do you think Christine is trying to do?”

Meg is silent. She hasn’t thought of that, Meg is a dancer, and she never felt that she had to actively ruin someone’s dance career to get ahead.

“I have nothing, nothing without my voice! It’s what carried me to this country! My mother threw me out of the house when I was eight, I was found by these, these men who heard my voice. I brought them money, everyone wanted to hear me sing. When I was too old, they were going to “retire” my songs. I escaped, came here.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I understand having to be tough and circumstance can determine many factors of our life, but you don’t have to be so cynical. You can have friends. Why don’t you introduce me to the real Carlotta?”

“Why.”

“Because I want to meet her.” Meg sits down at her feet, holds Carlotta’s hand.

“Hello, my name is Meg Giry, and it’s very, very nice to meet you.”

Carlotta says nothing for a very long time. Meg waits, her smile does not falter, and her eyes twinkle.

Carlotta takes a deep breath and begins.


	9. Raoul's First

Raoul drags Reyer into storage closet as soon as he sees his friend and business partner. He pulls the string for the light and it shakes, moving back and forth, adding a foreboding feeling and sinister atmosphere.

“I think it’s safer here. _He_ cannot hear us, see us.” Raoul’s voice is low, like he’s afraid to be heard. This causes Reyer to have his own panic.

“Raoul, what did you do?” He tries to count to ten, think of his love. He was told by his therapist to count, to think of his love, or even come up with a kind of mantra that only he knows. It could be his old high school address, or an important date, but to repeat, and practice breathing. He is waiting for positive results.

“Remember last night?” Raoul says, keeping his voice just above a whisper. Reyer does indeed remember, this morning he woke up in a bathtub. Raoul was still passed out in the front, he stepped over him as he left.

“Yes. I passed out in the bathroom. Why? Did you want me to help clean up the mess?”

“Yes, but no. You left after you finished the gin and couldn’t stay balanced for twister.”

He nods, this is also true. Three grown drunk men playing twister surrounded by lots of glass and sharp looking objects, no good. He left while he had some sense of lucidity.

“I remember, I was there.”

“So, you left and _He_ and I are were still wanting some kind of entertainment, and _He_ opened this bottle of, I don’t even know what it was. I have never tasted anything quite like it. I tried to get _Him_ to tell—”

“Raoul, skip to the chapter, enough of prologue!”

“We started a game of strip twister, but we got too drunk to finish. Then we got serious.”

“You are a very sad drunk.” Reyer nods.

“We were talking about regrets. _He_ mostly talked about people he wanted to kill. There is this woman _He_ regrets not taking to bed, because _He_ said the ultimate orgasm would have been seeing the life snuffed from her eyes as she was strangled as they both came.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Then _He_ started talking about Meg, and then I just said it.”

“Said what?”

“I’ve never had a meaningful homosexual experience in college.”

“What.”

Raoul nods.

“What.”

Reyer laughs, scoffs, snorts. That is just. What.

“You’ve always known who you are. I was not sure, and I was told that in college that is when you find out. That is when you really see the world, become an adult, and find out what is real. It all seemed like a magical fairy tale coming true.”

“And you wanted to have a sexual experience with another man as tic off the bucket list of life? Slightly offended.”

“No, no! Not a tic off a list at all! I have never been with either sex at that point. I did not know what I liked, who I should like, and how to respond or what sexual attraction even was. My family is very much about class, and stiff upper lip, you wear layers, physically and emotionally.”

“Ah. I see.”

“I thought, how can you know, truly know if you do not experience it all? If you only are with men, how do you know you do not like women? I do not understand all that goes into sexual attraction and I will never claim to. I was just very confused and had no experience.”

“You kept to yourself and didn’t experiment to see what you liked; I take it? That’s the regret?”

“I was a coward and I still haven’t had a meaningful relationship with either sex. I am lonely. I want to meet someone, anyone. I don’t think I would care about their gender; I don’t know if it would matter.”

“You can still find out Raoul.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“What?”

“He, uh, well, uh.”

“Raoul?”

“We may have _copulated_.” He exhales deeply and hangs his head.

“You fucked a ghost.” Reyer needed time to process this. He covers his mouth with his hands. His eyes shine wet, his shoulder shake from badly suppressed laughter.

“Sshh, shhh, keep your voice down!”

“Was it a truly spiritual experience? Ethereal?”

Raoul regrets speaking.

“You know _He’s_ not a ghost!”

“Yes, but when I tell the others, I have to keep up the charade and this is too good not to.”

“Reyer.”

“Raoul takes one for the team spectraly.”

“I wanted to confide in my friend.”

“What was it like, Mr. No Experience.”

“ _He_ took the lead, so to speak and I just followed orders.”

“Oooh. _He_ gave you orders?”

“This was a mistake.”

“I’m sorry, please continue.”

“Then when it was over, _He_ left, and I fell asleep.”

“And?”

“And I came straight here, and I don’t know if I damaged our friendship/work relationship.”

“Do you feel differently?”

“Well, you know how touchy and flirtatious _He_ is?”

“I do. He is very handy.”

“Funny. What if it takes on a new connotation?”

“Or maybe it’s just casual sex for _Him_ and _He_ goes about _His_ business?” 

“My other fear is, what if I was so terrible, that _He_ just mocks me?”

“Raoul, there’s nothing wrong with not having sexual experience. You were not ready, and it is on your terms when you are. If you want to have more experience, go for it, but do not let someone shame you or pressure you. That is their problem, not yours.”

“I—”

“No! Your terms, that not theirs. Anyone who mocks you, can suck a hairy duck.”

“What?”

“Suck a hairy duck!” He repeats.

“Thank you, Meri.”

“Anytime, my friend.”


	10. The Conversation Twenty Years Too Early For His Tastes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rent is late, someone gets caught up in a trap and life goes on.
> 
> playlist: fitness-lizzo, humanize-lizzo, darling, I want to destroy you-afi, your ex lover is dead-stars.

**_Little Darling,_ **  
**_Rent is past due, Take heart, sweetheart, and remedy this quickly_** _**. It will be a shame if this caused us some form of unpleasantness. We both know that is not what you would want. Not after your return to the Opera. I am not without reason, and I know that this must be an oversight and not ill will. We do know better than that, don't we? You have until the end of the day.** _

_**Your ever understanding Lord and Master,** _

_**O.G.** _

Raul read the note that had been left on his desk serval times and he is not sure how he was able to concentrate considering how his hands will not stop shaking. He was certain that he left the check for the correct amount with Moncharmin and Firmin during his brief “vacation,” surely that they followed instructions? They would not keep the money for themselves, would they? They are no dirty scoundrels. No. These men are of the elite, of the best of the best.

The check was cashed, he knows that much is true, his bank accounts prove this to be true. Someone has the money.

“Raoul, you wanted to see us. Is there something wrong?” Moncharmin and Firmin, just the two he needs.

“The check I left you, you followed instructions and left it in Box Five, correct?”

Moncharmin and Firmin exchange glances. Moncharmin ears turn pink. He looks like an ugly baby that is about to explode fecal matter. Better duck, Mama.

“We thought you would know better than to, to allow this obvious childish prank to continue!”

Firmin remains silent. This is not what Raoul wants to hear. He rubs his eyes and then his temples. This is not good. Then where is the money? Who has the money?

“Then what did you do with the check? My bank confirms that someone cashed it.”

“That would be us. We used it to pay for some expenses associated with the Opera and publicity matters.”

“Publicity matters. What publicity matters? We do not have anything like that until the end of next month. What did you pay for?”

“Carlotta needed some new furniture for her dressing room, Lord Chauncey needed some reassurances—”

“Lord Chauncey is a pedophile, I declined his “generous offer,” we have minors that we must take of. I do not care about protecting monstrous men in “positions.”

“Lord Chauncey is a lover of the arts! He can make and break a career and determine a successful season.”

“He also has the capability of raping our Meg Giry, who just turned 16 and that is not something that will happen, not while I’m here.”

“He may say some colorful things, but he would never act on them.”

“Can you stake your life on that? Firmin’s? Your lover’s?”

Moncharmin face turns purple and his cheeks blow up even further.

“Whatever you promised to Lord Chauncey, send word that you have misspoken and we will no longer have need of him or his donations. We have others.”

“Now see here, Raoul, you may have been chosen as our patron, but this business is something we know more about than you! This is a dangerous and delicate game. There are steps that must be followed and sacrifices must be made.”

“I am NOT sacrificing a minor or her innocence. I will not do away with my convictions for coin, no matter how much I could use it. You will send back whatever you have accepted from him, and you will return whatever furniture that you gave Carlotta. Unless her furniture is broken or a health hazard, she will do with what she has.”

“Raoul.”

“This isn’t a debate.”

Raoul ignored the men until they got the hint and left him. Raoul has to do something about those two.

“I have to do something about those two.” He rubs his face and pulls the skin. He needs someone he can trust. Why, oh, why did he ignore his brother and do business with them?

 _“Raoul, they’re idiots. They will use you and chew you up.”_ His brother had left to go to chase some woman across Europe and he wishes he had done the same.

Still, he would not have met Reyer, who has become his only friend, and then there was the matter of—anyway. No time for regrets of travels and such thoughts as these.

\--

* * *

“Raoul, this is not fair! Moncharmin approved of this!” Carlotta chased him all over the theatre when she found him watching the rehearsals.

“It’s not needed, and you are already treading on thin ice, your contract does not make you immune to everything. You will face consequences.”

She huffs, her cheeks turn colors, she looks like she is going to scream loud enough to blow his head off, instead she swallows back whatever it is she wants to say/do and stomps off into the opposite direction.

“If our next production is a ballet, where does that leave me?” Sorelli demands. Her temper short.

“You will be in the chorus. We are expanding what we provide. It’s good, we’re generating new interest and revenue.”

“I am not a chorus girl!”

“You are for this. It’s one production and there are 36 members of our family, each of them will have a chance to shine like you.”

“Fine.” She raises her arms in a frustrated rage and walks away.

“Raoul! Problem!” Raoul follows Reyer’s panicked voice, and when he finds what is the cause of the panic, he wishes he hadn't.

Moncharmin and Firmin are both caught up in a net that hangs several feet from the ground, with a note,

**Tick tock, Little Darling.**

" What does that mean? Are we in trouble?" If Reyer were the type to bite his nails in panic, this would be the time he would do so. Raoul takes the note and exhales deeply. He forgot about writing the new check.

"No. Moncharmin and Firmin used the rent money to buy things for Carlotta and our favorite pedophile."

"What? No. Why? Why!?" Reyer says the last part directly to the netted men.

“I just have to write a new check, everything is fine.” Raoul says that more to himself than Reyer.

“Ah. What are we going to do about?” He nods to the net.

“Let them stew for awhile.”

“And after that?”

“I supposed I’d have to pool resources to buy them out. I just need to talk to my accountants.”

“I can’t lose this place.”

“We won’t.”

“I think I’d die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll be fine and retire in many years with many tales of O.G and the fun we’ve had.”

“You say, “fun.” I say “hell” and “torture,”

“I meant fun for him.”

“Ah.”

The rest of the day is without incident, Raoul calls his accountant, things are set in motion and he goes back to his desk, wrote a new check and promptly passes out from the days stress.

Raoul moans softly as he feels stress melt away from his shoulders, whatever is causing this can keep it up forever. He slowly finds his senses wakening and he realizes that those are hands. Hands are massaging his shoulders.

 _“You make such curious sounds when you’re asleep._ ” A voice purrs into his ear and Raoul’s cheek flush with hot sensual heat and he wants to run. As he tries to stand, he is forced back down.

“Did you like your gift?”

Raoul is not sure what He is talking about. What gift?

"Gift?"

“I trust you understood the vague reference. No?” He clicked His tongue, mock disapproval.

“I’ll lend you the book.” He pats Raoul’s cheek and removes His hands from Raoul’s shoulders.

“I see you took my note seriously. I’ll forego the interest and penalties, considering the circumstances. See? I told you I’m not unreasonable, and I know it _must be so hard_ to not be able to trust those you work with, now you know.”

“Now I know, don’t leave checks to those two.” Raoul tries to keep his voice firm, but he cannot help but crack. He feels like a teen again, and he remembers that summer he refused to speak until he could control it.

“Quite.”

A beat.

Raoul dares not look or attempt to search for the man. He doesn’t know if he can face Him right now, he has been totally avoiding this.

“You’re rather demure, for a man. That is rather adorable. You’re like Leto.”

Raoul vaguely knew that name.

“Greek mythology?” He asked, he is half positive that he's correct.

“Correct!” That earned him a kiss on the cheek, Raoul felt strange material and knew that He was still wearing His mask.

“Though, Leto did end up fucking off with Zeus, but still she was the original goddess of demure. “

“And I’m like Leto, how?”

“Pre Zeus,”

“Is there a reason you’re here?”

"Do I _need_ a reason?"

Raoul could hear a thinly veiled threat and danger to that and needed to think fast to avert any violence and ill will.

"No, of course not, but you're not one to waste your time. So, I assume you, er, rather, have need of something?" 

"Smooth recovery. Rather, is there something _you_ would like to discuss with _me_?"

Ah.

The conversation Raoul thought he could hold off on for another twenty years.

“I. Um. Thank you?” Raoul felt very stupid saying that and imagined that he pulled a lever and time restarted. New first attempt, please! He hated these kinds of conversations, he had no experience with them, only read about them in novels or saw them in movies or soap operas.

“Hm. Want to try again?”

Yes, please!

“I mean. I. I appreciate. No. It was nice? No. I mean not that it wasn’t nice, not nice like you were being friendly and doing me favor like helping me move, what I mean to say is, I enjoyed your company and thank you for your services.”

Raoul wanted to throw up and have the world swallow him.

"No, that wasn't any better. Look, I'm no good at this. I don't know what I'm doing. My longest relationship was with my dog, and that was obviously, not sexual and she was the only thing I truly loved. I was there for her until the end. I held her in my arms as she died. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and then my priest told me she wasn't going to be in my Heaven, and I told him that then I rather go to Hell, if that's where she was and then he said I was misguided. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm sorry. You make me very nervous and I like it and it's strange and new and I don't know what to do."

Raoul wanted that ground to take him any time now. Raoul heard Him chuckle softly and the He breathed into his ear.

" _I enjoy you._ " He pressed His masked face against Raoul.

"Oh? You're welcome?" Raoul winced and again, ground can eat him up at any point! Be struck down by Eros or just literally be the first man to die from embarrassment.

"You're adorable, Little Leto." 

_Nicknames are good right?_

Raoul isn't sure what else he could say, he tries to get his brain to come up with something clever, more intelligent than his rantings of a teenage boy reveling his crush for the first time

"Is this priest still alive?"

Raoul had not expected that.

"Possibly. I haven't kept tabs on him. Is there a specific reason?"

He says nothing.

"Why do you want-"

He grabs Raoul's Jaw and lifts his head to face him.

"Don't ask questions."

He releases and pets his head.

"We'll get along much better that way, Little Leto."

"Uh huh."

"I'll find you when I want you. There's so much more I can teach you and train you to do." 

"Tr--

"Don't ask questions." He pinches Raoul's cheek half playfully, half sending message of control/dominance.

"Right."

"I have business to take care of, I trust you do not require an escort?"

"No, I can find my way home."

He pets Raoul again and then he's gone. Raoul has no idea what's in his future and it terrifies him, but at the same time he's looking forward to it.


	11. Things Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg goes through something and Raoul gets an Opera House.

There is a wrapped package that is left on Raoul’s desk. It’s not his birthday, his brother doesn’t send gifts, his parents are dead. When Raoul turned 22 three months ago, all he received was a hug, advice that he ignored, and a cheap bottle of wine from a neighbor who he now is certain loved him. If he had the courage to send a postcard or a note, perhaps they would visit.

Raoul shakes his head free from thoughts, sits down at the desk and unwraps the package. Inside, is a plush duck, wrapped in what he assumes are hair extensions.

“I don’t get it.”

He sets the odd hair duck aside and tends to the mail and notes that he has collected so far for the day. He has at least fifteen minutes to enjoy coffee, read and respond to messages before—

“Raoul, we have a problem.”

Ah. Three minutes. New record. Raoul sets aside the notes and mail and gives Christine his full attention.

“Yes?”

“That pedophile.”

Raoul blanches.

“Lord Chauncey?”

She nods.

“He’s **here**. He says he is a new producer of ours. He wants to put on a limited series, whatever that means, with Meg. Meg. Alone. By herself. With him.”

“Obviously, that’s not going to happen.”

“He’s a producer. Doesn’t that mean he has the power to **make** it happen?”

“Meg is protected by the law, her union, and me. “

“Raoul, he bought out Moncharmin and Firmin. He **_owns_** the Opera Populaire.”

“It’s true,” Reyer says from the doorway.

“He, what? When? No, no. He can’t have.”

“He did.”

“How can he do that? I _own_ a portion!”

“You’re co-owners then. “Reyer says miserably. He hangs his head; Christine rubs his shoulder.

“I’m only 36. I’m going to **die** , be broke, I’m supposed to get married in six months, now I work for a **pedophile.”**

“Why are you going to die _now_? Never mind, we will discuss that later. I have a copy of the deed, there has to be something we can do.”

“I have a suggestion; it may not be **strictly** _legal_ or _moral_.” Reyer says.

“Christine, go do whatever you can to be with Meg. You are her shield, her wall, and chaperon. Wherever she goes, while he is here, you are there too.”

Christine nods and quickly makes her exit.

“That’s **murder** , and I am feeling less and less against it by the seconds.” Raoul sighs.

“I mean, if a **ghost** did it.”

“I need to find that deed.”

Raoul goes through several papers on his desk and opens drawer after drawer. He goes to the bookcase and pulls everything he can touch, move.

“There has to be something.” He looks under the desk, under the rug.

“If he owns the Opera Populaire, where does that leave us?"

“I don’t know, we need that deed.”

“Deeds are public records. Can’t we request a copy from an archive or something?” Reyer suggests.

“Maybe, you do that. Just go. I’ll try to keep things, I don’t know, safe as I can here.”

Reyer nods, salutes, and takes his leave.

\--

* * *

“I would like to discuss it with the star alone.”

Christine does not move. She is blocking Meg, who is happy about that. She does not want to be alone or in a room full of people with him.

“I’m her guardian and legal rep with the union, I have to be present.”

“Very well. Three weeks of her life she preforms as the star of my new ballet.”

“Where.”

“I have another theatre just outside of Paris. She will have accommodations of course, and she will be unable to preform for Opera Populaire during that time as she would be under a new contract, a temporary once of course. Then she will, obviously, return here.”

“She’s sixteen, who is going to look after her? Her mother is still under her touring contract for another three months and her father left me in charge while he takes of his businesses abroad.”

“Perhaps, new arrangements could be made, you will be under your contract here and I am afraid unable to follow young Miss Giry.”

” I’m fine, with not agreeing to a contract and staying here.” Meg says.

“Think about this carefully, sweet Marguerite, you will have a lead role in a new ballet that is set to be the new Nutcracker, think of it, _your_ name is what carries you, not your mother’s, not whoever this father of yours is. No longer will you be in the shadows of our talented miss Daae. It is your name in lights, “Marguerite Giry.”

“I- I may have misspoken. That would be wonderful.” Meg can see it, the fame, the flowers, her Orpheus coming to the stage, singing songs of love and praise and they walk in the light together, Eurydice coming home.

No more starving or begging for attention. No more, Christine’s friend, right? Oh, you are so precious what do _you_ do? Can you sing? Christine has a voice of angels, what does your voice sound like? Oh, you _dance_! Didn’t _she_ dance too? You are so cute; can you hold my coat?

“Here, look it over, before you commit to anything. Ask your parents, if you feel the need, but trust me, this is for the best. For your future, there is more out there than being a chorus girl or a member of the ensemble.”

He hands her the paper and he holds onto her hand just a little too long before he lets go.

“Don’t listen to his siren song, he will only lead to ruin. There are skeletons of ships and others he's killed with his false words and loose lips.” Christine knows how to speak to her friend. The language she speaks.

Meg grips the contract something fierce.

“His wine is poison.”

“What if he isn’t wrong? This could be good for me.”

“Or he’s lying, and he preys on your soul, your body.”

“Nyx and Persephone will protect me; Eris is my friend and I think I may have to do this.”

“Talk to your mother, talk to Raoul, talk to Reyer, just don’t do anything without an adult who knows the business better than you.”

Meg nods. Her eyes are full of stars and the world melts away, she’s on the stage alone, dancing while the spotlight only follows her, loves her, wants her, worships her.

\--

* * *

Carlotta watches the “Lord” and is not impressed. She knows of men like him, has fallen victim to them and she will not stand by as some big asshole with money comes into her Opera House and goes after a little idiot she holds a soft spot for.

Oh no, this will simply not do. She nods. She has made up her mind.

“Lord Chauncey?” Carlotta asks, her voice as sweet as possible. He pays her little mind. She is old and fat. He has no need for her.

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

“Lord Chauncey of, where exactly? There are not too many French nobles around here, so I assume, you’re not.”

“I come from a very old line.”

“So dose our Raoul, do you know him?”

“We’ve crossed paths.”

“Have you. I know of a Lord Chance, he’s from, I believe a small village near Lyon? Didn’t he have some scandal with a 12-year-old years ago? But you wouldn’t know of such matters?”

“What is this about, Miss?”

“The Opera Populaire doesn’t need any more negativity. Not with all of our accidents, and strange deaths that have haunted us for the past several years. A renowned ballet mistress’s daughter being involved with a gentleman who is more than 30-years her senior would sound and look quite inappropriate. Especially if she were **manipulated** into such relationship. What would that do for us, for **you?”**

**“Tread carefully.”**

**“Likewise.”**

She narrows her eyes.

-

* * *

Meg walks into the lavish library. Bright reds and velvets. It belongs in a palace or a fantastical castle, not this strange crypt. You wouldn't know it was built as a tomb from the grand splendor of every room. Palace under the earth and by the sea. He needs his own Charon.

Meg is holding a book and a doll. She walks forward to the desk, the workspace. What wonderful and terrible things were given life here?

“You gave these to me when I was a baby, but I need to be a big girl now and I have no need of such things anymore. I have to jump off the ledge and see if I can fly with eagles. I may die, I may flourish in the sky and beyond the sea. I have to do this. It will take all of my strength to walk away from you, but it's for the best. I need to cast my own shadow now. I love you.”

Meg places the items down on the desk that is covered with sketches and musical compositions and other works that are beyond her.

“So long, and thanks for all the fish.” Her voice cracks slightly. She tries to recover.

She taps the book, she resists picking it back up, taking it with her. She looks around the room, her eyes bright, shine with love and sorrow.

She will miss this place, this world, but she knows she must do this.

She exhales, wipes her eyes, and walks away without looking back.

As her footsteps fade, a gloved hand picks up the doll and the book. The doll’s head pops off from the crushing pressure.

\--

* * *

“Meg, I can’t stop you from doing this, but is this what you truly want? Have you gone over this with your mother?” Raoul doesn’t want her to go.

“I sent her a copy in an email.”

“I understand wanting to take chances and the risks that come with a career like this, but you need to really consider-“

“I’ll come back, it’s only temporary, but this could be really good. I get the experience I need, I’ll have my talents, not my mother’s name, to carry me.”

“I see the appeal, but you are young, people will likely take advantage of that.”

“They can do that here.”

She is right. Anyone could use her and abuse her here as well. Raoul likes to believe otherwise, but that is a true possibility.

“You’re established here.”

“ **Antoinette** Giry is established here. Her daughter just picks up her scraps and carries her dress off the ground, and sometimes gets to dance in the front.”

“It didn’t happen overnight, your mother worked hard to get her name, so you will you—”

“I can’t have what I want if I stay here forever and don’t see my options.”

“You’re sixteen you have—”

“Carlotta become the lead when she was 23. Christine is 18 and she is working to replace her. They are **singers**. I am a dancer, my body will not last as long. I need to start **now**.”

“Think on this. Give it one more day.”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

Meg leaves as fast as she can.

Reyer enters as she goes. He sits down across from Raoul; he scoffs when he sees the hairy duck and picks up it and plays with it.

“I didn’t get anywhere with the deed. They couldn’t find a copy.”

“This isn’t good. We are losing Meg, we may now serve a pedophile. What else can happen?”

“Raoul, fuck you! Now something terrible is going to happen!” Reyer throws the duck at him.

Raoul catches the duck, still confused by the gift.

“Suck this hairy duck, Raoul. It was supposed to be a gift, but now feel the ire and wrath!”

“Gift? You, you sent me this? What the hell does it mean?”

“It’s for your haters to suck, remember? Our conversation the other day.”

“So-this. Oh. I see. Oh! I get it. Thank you, I think.” He throws the duck back at him.

“You can suck it, for being rude!”

“We need that deed.” Raoul sighs and slumps down in his chair.

“I need a drink.”

“We need a miracle. How can _we own_ the Opera? I don’t have enough money to buy Chauncey. Only Moncharmin and Firmin.”

“I have no money to my name. Jules, probably could buy him out, but our finances are separate, and he does not know how broke I am. I just told him I’m _thrifty_.”

“ _Jules could buy him out._ Ask him!” Raoul grabs the duck and then throws it at Reyer’s face.

“I keep **my** business and sex separated, unlike you!” He throws the hairy duck back.

“He will just be a name on piece of paper! You know he would do it! He’s put up with you long enough and now he’s going to **marry** you.” Duck to face, again.

“I’ll ask, but I am **not** happy about this.”

* * *

**8PM Outside Meg’s apartment with Christine**

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him.” Christine waits outside on the steps with her friend.

“He said he was going to discuss the business side and that there would be others with him, his lawyer, the choreographer and the composer.”

“What if he’s lying?”

“What if he’s not?”

“When did he say he was picking you up?”

“He should be here soon.”

“I’ll wait with you.”

“I knew you would.”

“This is a terrible idea and I don’t trust him.”

“If anything happens it’s my fault, on my soul, not yours.”

“It’s not okay if anything does happen and I will want to do very violent things to avenge you.”

“Avenge me by eating ice cream with me. I won’t let you damage yourself because of my errors.”

“Not **your** errors, his.”

“Christine-“

“It’s not okay! He is an adult and if he hurts you, he knows better! He knows what he is doing wrong, this isn’t a Greek Tragedy where you’ll end up meeting Orpheus and he sings you a song and you forget about the pain. This is real! He could really damage you and nothing will ever make that okay.”

“Christine.”

“Meg.”’

“Check out my purse.”

Christine blinks confused, Meg winks. Christine lifts the purse but is surprised by the weight of it.

“What do you have in there? Bricks?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Not totally defenseless.”

“Meg.” Christine sighs.

Meg checks her phone.

“He should definitely be here by now.”

“I am not saddened by his tardiness.”

Meg’s cell phone rings.

“Oh, it’s him!”

“Hello?”

* * *

\--

“Marguerite, there has been a terrible misunderstanding.” Lord Chauncey says, trying to his keep voice level and composed as he speaks into the phone that is held out to him.

He cannot see much, since there are no lights in the empty lot, and he is doing his best not to look at the fresh grave behind him.

_“What does that mean? They don’t want me anymore?” Meg voice full of sorrow and pain._

“They want someone with more experience. A dancer from Sweden, she’s worked with the company before.”

“ _Oh_.”

“I-“

A shovel connects with his head, hard, knocking him out. The shovel is turned sideways, and he is struck again, like it’s a blade. His head is split open.

Antoinette Giry exhales, stabs the ground with the shovel and uses it as support for a rest.

“ _Hello_?

A gloved hand cancels the call.

“Erik, I told you to wear your **black** gloves.” Meg’s Mother is not impressed by her companion’s outfit choice. Red Velvet suit, okay she gets the reference, full face mask of black, yeah that makes sense, **white gloves?**

“These are my favorite.”

“Yes, but I know you. You won’t touch the body now.”

“Blood never washes out from white.”

“ Which means that once again, I do all the work. This is supposed to be a partnership. We are supposed to carry equal weight. This is why we have arguments, you think only of yourself, you only look outside when it suits your whims. You are the most selfish man I've ever known."

“I kidnapped him and brought him here.”

“And now I have to bury the body because someone is too much of a finicky cat. You knew what we were doing and yet you activity made that choice."

“Wanting to stay clean and practicing hygiene is not a sin, my darling Nettles.” He wipes imaginary dirt from his white fingers.

“This is why we go to couples therapy. _This_ is why we are _still_ separated, you great lummox.” She is exasperated.

She uses the shovel to move the body into the grave

“Look at that, Erik. I came up with a on the spot creative solution and my clothing, my gloves remain clean. Ta da!” She does a magician’s bow.

He claps sarcastically.

His darling Nettles steps up to him, she’s about 6ft to his 6’7 and she glares at him.

“You could have at least brought the Royce. That backseat,” she points to his car,” is absolutely purgatorial."”

He gestures to off to the side, a large blanket is spread out, it looks like a lovely little picnic is waiting.

“Ah, I do love our nightly picnics.” She feels her anger melt away. His turn to bow.

“We’re good parents.” She says as takes his offered hand is led to the picnic.

“The **best**.”

* * *

“So that’s that then.” Meg says. She wants to cry.

“It wasn’t right for you. You’ll have the right opportunity and you will be the greatest dancer the earth has ever known.” Christine hugs her friend.

“One day.”

“It **will** happen.”

* * *

\--

Raoul gets up from his bed and walks down the steps. Someone is at the door at this odd hour. Reyer perhaps, with Jules to discuss the buy out?

Raoul opens the door. No one is there, he’s about to close the door, when sees it. An envelope. He bends down.

“Little Leto.”

He looks around, steps outside, searches for him, but he sees nothing, he goes back inside.

Raoul opens the note and inside is the deed.

“Thank you!”

He looks around half expecting a response. Nothing happens. He sighs and goes back upstairs to bed.

* * *

Meg wakes up. Her bedroom window is open. She shivers and pulls the covers closer to her chin and she turns over. She is about to close her eyes when she spies something that wasn’t there before.

She sits up, pulls the covers back, and gets out of bed just enough to reach over to her nightstand, her book she left is in her hands. Attached is a note written her Papa's script.

It missed you.

Meg looks out her window, she’s not sure what’s searching for. She looks at the book in her hands, holds it close and goes back into her bed, flips through pages and begins to read.

  
  



	12. It Happened In Box Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul has a hot date and Reyer prepares to be the president of the planet. There will be duck violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where I get my inspiration from eta
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWiZwQv-WEc  
> My Reyer is totes this guy at times.
> 
> Originally I had envisioned Hadley Fraser as Raoul, but he's(this fic Raoul) soo Michael Ball at this point, considering the selling point for Mr. Ball was and I quote, "relax, Michael, I want you as Raoul, there's NO pressure there and you will not have your panic attacks," that fits with the way my Raoul is going, plus Michael is damn adorable, Hadley is too clearly experienced to be this version.  
> Carry on!

* * *

Reyer enters the office, surprised that Raoul hasn’t arrived yet. He looks around, checking to see if he’s safe and truly alone. He sits down behind the desk and picks up the phone.

“Hello, this is Meri Reyer, president of the Earth, I’d like to speak to the Galactic Emperor. Yeah, it’s about money.”

He sets the phone down, picks up the duck and holds it close.

“I **respect** you _and_ want to **kill** you.”

“Hey, I think I understand Erik!” He says to the room, as if this is a sudden epiphany.

He spins around in the chair, stops, kicks his feet up on the desk. He points at the empty chair across from him

“You’re fired! And so’s your dad!”

He picks up the phone.

“Hello Germany, this is France re: 1940. Fuck you!” He hangs up.

“M, what are you doing?” Raoul sets his coffee down on the desk. Reyer says leans back in the chair.

“This desk exudes power. I like it.”

“It’s just a desk.”

"I feel like the president of the planet.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes. Like I can do anything.”

“Excellent, do you want to deal with the mail and bills then? Because, if you’re president of everything—

“President of the planet,”

“Then you probably are the best person to handle this business. Look, this is from Erik. Let’s see what has him vexed today.”

“I’ll leave all of those matters to you and your capable body.”

“I **deeply** regret sharing that with you.”

Reyer reaches for the note in Raoul’s hands.

“What does he want us/me to do? Is it a casting thing? Is it about the ballet? I know he doesn’t care for ballets, he never pays much attention to them in the Opera,” he stops when he sees Raoul’s face change colors, and coughs, he is uncomfortable which is hilarious because that means,

“Or rather what does Erik want to **_do_** to **_you_**?”

Raoul quickly puts the note behind his back.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re blushing like a schoolboy who’s crush just checked, “yes”

“I am not!”

“You are!”

“Am not!” Raoul’s voice cracks, that only makes it so much more fun for Reyer. He laughs like a fool.

“When your wedding comes around, I hope you can’t fit into your tuxedo and the replacement ruins your color scheme, and the entire aesthetic for the wedding.” Raoul says in a very sardonic, somber, flat tone. He looks at Reyer unblinking, who’s mouth forms “O” shape and feels like he’s been sucker punched by his best friend.

“That’s **literally** the meanest thing you could have said to me.”

Reyer picks up the duck and throws it Raoul

“Suck the duck.” He snaps. Raoul catches the duck, which causes him to drop the note he was hiding. Reyer jumps from the chair, runs around and dives at the ground, gets the note and rolls to the corner and reads it before Raoul can take it back.

_**Little Leto,** _

_**You appear to be rather taunt and I am sure I can come up with some solution to assuage you of such tensions. The text is part of your training, there will be exams, it is not a paper weight. You will meet me in Box Five after tonight’s production’s intermission. Do not be late, punctuality is a desired virtue. You would not want to start off negatively with me, do you?** _

_**Your ever-patient Master,** _

_**Erik.** _

“Well, what are you going to wear for you hot date?” Reyer asks, still on the ground.

“I don’t know.”

“Why does he call you, ‘Little Leto,’?”

“She’s the goddess of demure or something.”

“Really? That is your pet name? Okay.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Do _you_?”

“Suck the duck.” He throws it.

"What text is he talking about?" Raoul hands up a brown packed shaped book. Of course it's a book. 

"It's probably a book on myths, he wants me to be educated on Greek Myths."

"That's what the "exams," he mentioned are going to be about?"

"I assume so."

"Some of this note is very alarming."

"You know he can be playful."

"He also likes to **murder** people. For funzies. Take heart, my friend. I can't afford for you to die."

* * *

As per instructions of the note, Raoul went to box five after the intermission. He felt like a fool. The concierge girl, led him to the box, asked if he wanted anything, which he promptly stated all of the alcohol, she nodded and after a few minutes, she had a box full of wine, spirits and many other potent potables.

He started with gin. He likes gin. His brother is the wine drinker and when Raoul turned 12, he would take him on adventures to different wineries and educate Raoul on why certain grapes were better than others, why they taste they way the do, the importance of soil, air, the sun, and the person who takes care of the crop itself. If you love the land and the vegetation, you will yield the best results.

It’s hard for Raoul to drink wine, he thinks of his brother, of those times, and he feels a longing. His brother practically raised him, and once Raoul turned 22, he left to have the life he was denied.

_“You’re out of university, you have a grand adventure of your own waiting for you at the Opera Populaire. Be weary of Moncharmin and Firmin, they will use you and chew you up. I’m only a letter away, little brother. This is where are journeys separate, but we will come together again one day.”_

That was three months ago. Raoul has so much he wanted to say, to tell him. To confined him about, he is scared and for the first time in his life, Philippe isn’t there to hold his hand and fight the monsters with his sword of brotherly/fatherly awesome.

He feels the gin work its magic. He feels calmer, relxed. That it will be okay, and that he’s got this. The box is terribly dark to the point of being blind.

“Lover in the dark.” He says with a sudden appreciation and realization. He laughs and reaches for the bottle of gin and fills his glass. He knows things. He’s smart, that’s why people like him.

“Starting without me?” Raoul looks around, which is in vain, as he cannot see in the dark and he does not trust his vision at this point, since it’s growing increasingly hazy. He’s about to see double, if he **could** see.

“Have some.” He holds the bottle out. He moves it to the left, to the right, until a hand grabs his wrist and lowers the bottle back onto the table.

“I’d prefer you not to be inebriated, but that cannot be helped now.” The other man sighs.

Raoul would be a liar if he said he was not nervous about what’s to come next.

“We’ll start slow, just follow my precise instructions, we’ll get along.” Raoul feels gloved hands start with his hair, the lower to his neck, chest. He feels his breath against his neck, his skins erupt with goosebumps and butterflies wreak havoc in his stomach and lower parts.

"Before we begin," Raoul feels the material of his mask rub against his cheek, "you'll need to chose a safe word. If it gets too intense, say the word and I'll stop. So, what is it going to be, Little Leto?" He feels hands touch and caress his face roughly.

"Um. Duck!" Raoul feels stupid for choosing that. Stupid Reyer. He's glad that it's dark and Erik cannot see his face blush. Though, his eyes are freaky freaky, golden and glowing. Raoul shakes it off. No. He can't see in the dark. Humans don't have night vision, for the most part.

"Hm. Duck it is."

Raoul curses himself again.

"Now, take off your pants and we'll begin your next training session and lesson."

* * *

"So, how was it?" Reyer asks the morning as they walk in together.

"We fucked in the box, it's weird. I didn't think I would like public fornication, but I didn't count it because it was dark and the curtains were closed."

"Yeah, clearly doesn't count. Did you like it?"

"I think so?"

"You think so."

"It got, uh, intense."

"Right."

"Is it normal to uh, have a safe word."

Reyer stops walking.

"I'm not into that kind of sexual intensity."

"Oh. So it's not normal?"

"Raoul, I need you to go to a library and read every book you can find on sex. There is no true, "normal," You are so sheltered, it's fine, but Erik is clearly way too advanced for you. He's Honors A.P Sex and you're Remedial. You need to study up, and get comfortable. Read, find out what sounds good, talk to Erik about it and go from there."

"When I accepted this position, I didn't think it would lead to this. Life got life fast."

"Yes."

"I just realized that I didn't do anything related to my manager duties yesterday."

"I forgive you."

"No. It's not good. I need to set my priorities."

"Oh, don't worry, you'll make up for that today, Sorelli got so pissed off at Carlotta she set her dressing room on fire. The bill from the fire department came today. Have fun with that." Reyer taps his friend's shoulder and heads off to the players.

"Oh, suck a duck." He rubs his temples.


	13. 99 Red Balloons for Meg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg meets a disturbed young fella who shares her love for film and balloons.

The production is over for that night and Meg joins the other dancers off stage. After a few minutes Meg heads to the dressing room, when someone grabs her wrist, Rodney, the boyfriend.

“Hey, slut!” He smiles and he puts his arms are around her shoulder and they walk forward.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to come! It’s good to see you!” Meg feels happiness fill up inside her like one of those 99 red balloons, ready to take flight and spread their joy.

“Yeah, no. I told you, it’s in German or something, don’t speak, don’t have interest. Anyway, I just got here and I have something for you!” They stop by her locker and Meg notices he has his hand behind his back.

Meg is prepared for flowers, instead the big reveal is a piece of paper. She takes it, still expecting a note of love. It’s his French assignment.

“You said your parents were hella French and that you speak French,”

“Ma première langue,” she says softly, disappointed.

“Great, so can you do your language voodoo and help me pass this assignment? Because I am failing.”

“Si c’est tout ce que tu veux de moi,”

“Bitch, you know how I do. You do this for me, and I’ll buy you all the ice cream.”

“C’est tout ce que je te demande. Je pourrais dire n’importe quoi, imbécile.”

He kisses her cheek and turns backwards and walks away, he points at her, and does the double guns.

“That’s my girl.”

Christine, who watched the exchange walks over, her French is limited, but what she picked up, it was not happy.

“He came here to drop off homework and you’re going to do it?” Christine does not like the Boyfriend.

“I never said I would write in the correct answers, who’s to say my French is that accurate.”

“That’s one way to get at him, but I know you. You won’t do that. Just throw the paper away. It’s not your problem, let him fail.”

“That’s rude, I said I’d do it.”

Meg opens her locker and starts to take out of her things, pulls the wig and pins from her hair, shakes her head free, and her naturally pale pretty hair comes through.

“He’s a loser. He treats you terribly, if I were a different person, I’d sic the Opera’s Phantom on him.”

“Speaking of our favorite ghost, did you see what he did to Carlotta’s dressing room?”

“That was Sorelli!”

“Somehow I’m less interested now.”

\--

* * *

Meg waits outside the office, she could do what she's done in the past and just run in like she owns the place, but that feels wrong somehow, she doesn’t feel that she can do that now. The door is mostly closed, it didn’t click, and she can hear Reyer and Raoul.

If she were to hear some juicy gossip, it’s not her fault voices carry through open doors.

“ . . this budget could be a serious problem, Raoul.” Reyer says, Meg peers in through the crack.

“We just need to be particularly thrifty.”

“Or we could free money up by cutting down the company.” 

“The union says, the first to go, is the last to sign.”

Meg feels the balloon deflate, no, not deflate, pop.

“Meg is the last one to sign a union contract,”

Meg drops what is she holding and runs as fast as her powerful legs can take her.

“Which is not an option. We are not losing **anyone** , so let us cut what we can cut. _We’re not losing personnel.”_

“Agreed. I thought I was going to have to sic our hairy duck friend on you.”

“As it is **my** duck, I think their loyalty is **mine**.”

“Oh, suck the duck, **twice**.”

Raoul sighs.

“Lick rust, Reyer.”

-

* * *

It’s 7PM in NYC, do you know where your Meg Giry is? Christine has called, texted, called, texted, left a very stern, firm but loving friendly lecture. It’s Tuesday. Antoinette had made it clear that Meg is to be home by 7 on weeknights that Meg stayed with Christine.

Since Antoinette is currently sitting on the couch in the main room of their apartment, looking very stiff, very matron, very mom mad.

“I thought I made my instructions clear. I tripled checked my language and translations. Marguerite is to be **here** , after the sun goes down.”

“She is just running late.”

“Is this a common occurrence?”

“No, no! Sometimes she can get a little distracted when she is with her boyfriend.”

Antoinette’s nose twitches, she holds tightly onto her purse, Christine watches as the knuckles turn white and the veins on her hands, bulge and pulsate. She is not happy, to put it mildly.

“She did not mention a boyfriend. Nor did her father. Why was I not informed?”

Christine feels like she is about to be placed against a wall for an execution.

“I honestly thought she told you. She told me she wrote to you regularly, and since she says with her father on the weekends, I assumed she would have said something to him as well? Perhaps she has?”

Christine has never met Meg's father, not does she have a way to contact him. He hires a car service to pick her up at their apartment, and to drop her off.

_"It's for best that you two **never** meet, **trust** me. it's for your **safety.** He's **intense** and kind of, mostly purely **evil**. And **touchy**. Like, oh my god, enough with the hands!" _

That's what Meg said when Christine asked about if she would ever meet Meg's father, which only made Christine more curious and run wild with her imagination and lead to some very interesting questions, which is now a favorite game: Whom or what is Meg Giry's father! 

Antoinette takes out a phone from her purse. She holds it up, she does not remove her stern glare from Christine, she doesn’t even need to look at what’s doing with the phone.

“Avez-vous rencontré son petit ami? Suivi alors. Tu le connaissais ? Pas sans moi.”

She ends her call. Christine feels like she should say some prayers or drops to her knees, kiss Antoinette’s feet and wash them with her hair, she’s sure she’s read about that being a thing somewhere.

“He did not know either.”

“Oh.”

“I’d say I’m disappointed, but that would be an understatement.”

“I’ll try calling her again, and I’m sure she has a good reason for being late!”

* * *

Meg is at the park that’s connected to the school she always passes by on her walks to the terrible coffee place, where she met Rodney. He thought she was in his math class, she played it up and then they started to hang out. He’s a senior n high school, his last year, and she would be a sophomore, or in her second year. 

He was the first boy, nay person, to pay attention to her, to want to spend time with, go out with, not connected to the Opera House. He was not paid to looked after her, he’s not a Diva who cries on her shoulder sometimes.

They have a separate universe. It is nice. She texted him to meet her, he said he was at a party, they’d talk later, she said it was important, she needed him, he said his phone is out of minutes, stop annoying him.

That is how he ended the call and their conversation.

“Hey, you. Girl. You busy?” Meg looks over, she could hardly make out the stranger’s face.

“Want to help a fellow neighbor out?”

Meg says nothing.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It may have sounded like a question,” he holds up a knife, the blade shines pretty in the moonlight, it reflects off the ground, and it hypnotizes her eyes, she walks over to him, she is cold, and feels nothing.

Meg stops in front of him, her phones goes off. He takes it from her, blade out, still pointed at her.

“This is an expensive phone.”

He throws it behind him, he extends her arm to her, like a gentlemen wanting to escort his lady, she accepts and they walks the streets together.

“So, I’m supposed to have dinner with my parents and I told them that I had a girlfriend named Mona, who is a dancer, and imagine my surprise when I come across you! I’ve seen you dance before, the Opera place. My school takes trips there for our theater nerds,” he bows,” that doth includes me. So, since I have no girlfriend, and you dance at the aforementioned theatre, guess who’s coming to dinner!”

“Is this your Buffalo ’66 fantasy come alive?” Meg finds her voice. He laughs and pulls her into him, his laugh is sincere. His touch is not cruel or forceful, outside the knife, she could pull away, she chose not to.

“I love you for that. A plus refence. Yes, yes, I suppose it is. Do your part right, and you can go back to your swing,”

“What’s the script.”

“Lucky for you, I like adlib and I don’t have to pee, so my mood is **chill**.”

“What do I call you? Billy?”

“Ha! A plus,” he claps,” Call me Vincent Gallo if you want,”

He finds his home at the end of the block on the corner, he pulls her along, he opens the door, and lets her in first.

The lights are off, he pushes her forward, she feels that he’s still holding the blade, and she does not disobey. There is a table, a round one in the room, that is connected to the kitchen on the right side.

She stumbles in the dark to find a chair, he pulls it out, again, gentleman. She says nothing. She folds her hands onto her lap and gives her full attention to the odd shaped figures in the dark.

Meg cannot see in the dark, as she is a **human (** _she has a childhood fantasy that she is actually a kidnap survivor/victim and her **real** parents are Lea Salonga and Michael Crawford, because they **should** **be** and they will find each other one day, hence dancing for opera_ **)** , who is also near and far sighted and refused to wear glasses or contacts, because she is determined to force her eyes to sort their issues out.

The lights turn on abruptly, she blinks. She wishes the lights had remained off.

“Welcome home, Mona!”

Vincent Gallo’s strong hands are her on shoulders.

Two fancy dressed blown up sex dolls seat at the head of the table, a corpse is next to her and across form her other side. Why didn’t she smell the death?

“Oh, I had them preserved using the same chemical solutions that funeral directors and the Russians used for Lenin. I hate smells.”

“That’s clever, it makes sense. Wouldn’t want to attract attention.”

“Once dinner is over, I’ll walk you home. Do you like zambino?”

“I’m deathly allergic to fish.”

“Pizza for the lady!”

He backhands her hard, her lip splits open, a tooth is knocked loose, not out, but loose.

_Now I must go to the dentist,_

“Hey, messes! That’s how we get rats and I just had this place cleaned! You come into my home, spread your hazardous waste, and refuse my initial meal I prepared for you, now it’s going take another 30 minutes for dinner, don’t you have something to say to my family?”

“I’m sorry.”

_And your “son” is clearly insane._

“That’s better, now what would you like to drink?”

_\--_

* * *

True to “Vincent Gallo’” word, once the food was finished, he did indeed escort her safely back home.

“I had a real good time, Mona.”

“Likewise, Vincent.”

“How do you feel about the film, “Natural Born Killers,”

“I find that sentence alarming and I’m going to back away slowly.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight!” He kisses her cheek and strolls away humming, 99 red balloons. Meg wastes no time getting inside the apartment.

Meg stops short, her mother and Chrisine are both waiting for her.

“Maman, Christine.”

“Where have you been, young lady!” Christine says, Antoinette makes a noise. Christine backs off.

“It’s 11. You are to be here at 7.”

“I got lost and took the wrong train?”

“You do need to take a train to come here.”

“That’s why I was so confused.”

"What happened to you face?"

"I fell."

“Vous suivrez les règles ou je vous ferai rester avec votre Papa”

“Message reçu et compris, Maman.”

Antoinette stands up, she gives Meg a very severe look before she takes her leave, slamming the door behind her.

"Meg, what did happen to your face?" Christine reaches out to her friend, Meg turns away.

"I fell."

\--

* * *

Another night, another performance complete. Meg walks to her locker, prepares to get changed, when a concierge girl finds her, they look befuddle.

“There is a delivery for you in the lobby.”

She leads Meg, and Meg stops short, and is stunned. The room is filled with red balloons.

“99 balloons, according to the note.” The girl hands her the note

__

**_Hey Tony Danza,_ **

**_Get it, it's misused lyrics, it's a colorful play on words and that's where the comedy comes in._ **

**_Flowers_ ** **are _dumb and die. These are whimsical and maybe you can take flight!_**

**_say hello to Charlie and Carl for me! See you later, Mona._**

**_Vincent Gallo,  
XOXO BABY_ **

"Meg, I'm not one to deny a romantic gesture, but this is inappropriate. I can't have this be a regular occurrence." Raoul likes to practice his manager voice now and then, and it is a now moment. Meg nods, her body feels like pins and needles.

"Just let your paramour know, to keep a limit of one."

She nods, not sure what to think.

Raoul takes a harder look at Meg, and his features soften and concern sets in, he reaches out to her, but stops, feeling it would send the wrong message.

"Meg, what happened to your face? Did you get hit by another dancer or?"

She is silent for a moment.

"I think I cheated on my boyfriend with a sociopath, who treats me better and he held me at knife point." She says this out loud and to no one in particular.

**_"What?!_ **

Meg can't help it, it starts in the pit of stomach, as snort, a HA, then it grows into a giggle, and soon enough she is in fully belly laughter, she drops the note, and doubles over, because she can no longer breathe and her lungs are fire and she's crying from the pain and insanity of this.

"Meg?"

Meg runs out of the Opera Populaire.

"I don't like where that's going." Raoul feels like he should have followed. He picks up the dropped note.

"I'm going to shut this down." He looks at the balloons, and curses, He forgot about them. Reyer comes around.

"Yes! Yes!" He runs behind the agent counter, returns holding a pen knife.

"Reyer, stop! We have a situation!" He grabs Reyer, mid pop popping.

"Eat glass, Raoul!"

"We can pop them later, come on, and then suck the duck. . ." he drags a very anrgy Reyer along with him to the office to discuss this new situation. Can't they have a normal day, where normal things happen to their people? No?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Meg casting for all my Megs: Evanna Lynch, lazy to describe her as something new, and Evanna is pretty and Luna Lovegood. so you know.  
> and why not Jonathan Groff for Reyer,  
> and as stated before Michael Ball as Raoul  
> I've seen Phantom of the opera three times and I only remember two of the three Erik's faces/actors, the third was awesome  
> but i forgot who the actor was, he was with a touring company, and the most delicate, I will kill you and kiss you at the same time, while holding you as you die, voice. and that was when he just spoke non singing lines!  
> casting done for now, hate to describe chatacters looks,  
> French, possibly badly translated:  
> “ Ma première langue,”  
> (my first language)  
> “Si c’est tout ce que tu veux de moi,” "  
> (If that's all you want from me, ")  
> “C’est tout ce que je te demande. Je pourrais dire n’importe quoi, imbécile.”  
> ((That's all I'm asking of you. I could say anything, you idiot.")  
> “Avez-vous rencontré son petit ami? Tu le connaissais ? Pas sans moi.”  
> "Have you met her boyfriend? Did you know him? Not without me."  
> Vous suivrez les règles ou je vous ferai rester avec votre Papa”  
> (You'll follow the rules or I'll have you stay with your dad.")  
> “Message reçu et compris, Maman.”  
> (message received and understood, Mama)  
> <


	14. Play Crack The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Brand New and Straylight Run.

* * *

Meri Reyer has his arm crossed and he sends Raoul very angry looks, for he took away from him one of his greatest pleasure of life, pop popping stupid, stupid balloons. This is a slight that he will not forgive or forget.

“You can pop the balloons later. Looks at this note.” He hands it to Reyer, he glares at Raoul before he accepts the note and reads it.

“We don’t have anyone here named Mona. Why should we care about this?” He drops the note behind him casually.

“It’s for Marguerite.”

“Her boyfriend doesn’t even know her name. Tsk. I do not see much hope there.” He tilts his head to the slide and tsks and clicks his tongue.

“I don’t feel great after reading this and I think he abuses her.”

“We’re not her parents, a teacher, and we haven’t seen the alleged violence.”

“Which means?”

“We have no foot to stand on. Unless we see something nefarious, we can’t do anything. Hey officer, I don’t like this note my dancer’s boyfriend left her, arrest him, thanks.”

He shakes his head and spreads his arms wide in the, duh, dumbass, way. Raoul paces his office. Raoul loves his 36 members of the Opera Populaire company like family. He’s like a Mama Bird. You don’t fuck with Mama’s Bird birdies.

“There has to be something.”

“If we see something, say nothing. Drink to forget. That got me through life.” Reyer says as he comes around to take a seat at the desk. He picks up the phone.

“Hey Broadway, this is everyone with a brain, what the actual **fuck** about Spongebob. You **couldn’t** bring us **Hunchback**? **Fuck** you **and** your dad.”

He slams the phone down for good measure.

“Meri, I need you to focus. This is serious.” Raoul steps up to the desk, slams his hands down, and leans forward to give his most stern look. He’s 22, he’s never seen the world outside his bedroom window, and he’s trying to intimidate his 36-year-old best friend who has used their passport like it’s going out of style.

“So is this!” He picks up the phone again.

“Hey, Marius, you chose the wrong girl, dumbass. Really? Really? Cosette? The one whose hand you would have to hold throughout life, and give her a helmet? Ponine could teach YOU how to change your oil and a tire, and is a capable and intelligent woman but fuck that right? Enjoy your mediocracy and vapid pretty.”

“You have **serious** issues with Marius.”

“Fuck him.”

“The musical version of him and Ponine are better than the book, it’s true but, they were **never** going to happen, they’re **perfect** for each other. That’s how tragedies work.”

Raoul slams his fist on the desk, something he regrets immediately and walks in circles, shaking his hand and curses.

“Damn you, you know I’m right!”

“This hurts, this hurts, why did I do it!” He does a little dance hop of pain.

“What is that desk made of?!”

“Did you seriously break your hand?”

“It’s turning **_purple_** , that doesn’t mean anything right.”

“I think you broke it, genius.”

“Hrmmm. We need to protect Meg, she’s one of ours.”

“Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“The players are our children, yes.”

“So, I’m Daddy and your Mommy? Oh, honey, you really let yourself go. I mean, yeah you had 36 babies, but that’s no excuse, babe.”

“Lick rust!”

“Eat glass!”

They both reach for the duck. Raoul gives in because his hand is now throbbing.

“We have to figure out to handle this, prove that he’s bad, so we can get her away from him,”

“It’s not like he’s going to trap her into a lair. People don’t have lair’s Raoul, but it looks bad and odd, if we do something.”

“We’ll do it.”

They both turn. Christine and Carlotta are the door and wave.

“Meg is my BFF.”

“I have interests that are no concern of yours.”

“Fine, go!” Raoul is trying not to tear up, my god the pain. Reyer stands up and takes his hand.

“Yeah, we’re going to the ER. Your hand is the size of Hulk’s fist.”

Raoul groans.

“You don’t play the piano or violin, do you? Because, heh, not going to be a thing for a while.”

“Glockenspiel and percussion, ten years. Only things I like to play. No regrets.”

“I love everything you just said.”

He looks at Raoul very seriously.

“Where have you been all my life?”

“Bath, Corsham. Moved to Brooklyn when I was 13, parents saw potential.”

“Ah, lived in Surrey until I was 25 and came here, had big plans ended up teaching theatre to pre-teen sociopaths until the previous manager hired me,”

“You’re very France proud though.”

“Mother is from Burgundy.”

“Ah.”

Raoul remembers his hand and winces.

“ER!”

They both hurry out of the office.

\--

* * *

The Terrible Coffee Place that Rodney works for is dead. Meg sits at a table near the doors. Rodney is with her; he’s going over his French homework.

“He said he was impressed my fluency and now wants me to take on extra work. I told you I wanted to pass, not have to get even more homework,” He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, he huffs like a petulant child. Meg says nothing, as she stares into her cup of coffee.

“It’s fine, I I’ll do the work.”

“Yeah, but can you take my tests too?”

“If you do extra work and pass all your coursework, you should have a decent average despite failing tests. You could also study with me.”

“Maybe we can do a take home test or get permission to be in a separate room.”

“You don’t have a reason for that. You need an IEP, which comes from having an LD, which you do not have. You’re just lazy.”

“Hey, fuck you. I am not lazy; I have a lot going on in my life. I have prom, this year our lacrosse team is the worsts its ever been and we have been practicing two more hours each week.”

“When’s Prom?”

“April, I think. I think I ay take Becca or Lyla, we always talked about going together.”

“Oh, right.”

“You can’t go, you’re not enrolled in my school, that’s the rule, trust me I asked.”

Meanwhile outside behind them Carlotta and Christine show up, they press their faces into the window. Carlotta drags Christine away.

“What do you think of _Nature Born Killers_?” Meg looks over. Rodney shrugs. He raises his arms and puts them behind his head.

“I guess they’re good at it, being natural and born for it. Are you reading about serial killers or something?”

“It’s movie. Have you ever seen _Buffalo 66_?”

“You mean the game?”

“Never mind.”

Christine and Carlotta crash the party. They pull chairs over and move in closer.

“Hey Meg, what’s up! You’re not answering your texts again, why is that?” Christine asks, she boops Meg’s nose and leans into her.

“It broke.”

“Get a new one,” Rodney says.

“Sure, hey mobile fairy, phone me.” Meg holds out her hands, she moves to her left and to the right.

“So, do you to have any plans?" Christine raises her eyebrows.

“No. I work until close.” Rodney belches loudly and then looks around.

“This place is so fucking dead.” He gets up and goes back around the counter.

“You have a charming paramour. “Carlotta glares at his empty chair.

“I bring in the swank.”

Meg looks over the papers that Rodney left, and Christine groans.

“You’re still doing his French assignments? That’s not your job.”

“Something to do. He needs it done, I speak and read French fluently, he can’t. “

“I’m picking up your subtext.” Carlotta slides the works towards her.

“I like helping people.”

“You want to be needed. To matter.” Carlotta says.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“You know that you **do** right?”

Meg drinks her coffee; she chokes and spits it back into her cup.

“It’s cold and sludge.”

“Yeah, everyone hates this place.”

“I can see why.”

Meg pushes the cup away. Vincent Gallo is outside, and he stops and presses his face into the window, he watches Meg for a minute before he enters.

“Bonjour belle, Mona.” He bows and holds out his hand to her. Carlotta and Christine are impressed.

“Who’s this tall drink of water?”

“Her **name** is **Meg**.” Christine starts to sense the faintest of faint danger on the rise. She is going to keep eyes on this one.

“Billy, Vincent, any name the story goes.”

“If you tell me your name is Mr. Y I will throat punch you.”

“Hells bells, Carlotta.” Christine exclaims.

“This place is beat, want to bounce and see what we can get up to this time? I think I saw an old man with a cane, want to perform magic tricks? I just need a top hat.”

Meg stands up and gathers her things.

He holds out his arm for and she accepts.

“Look at that and I didn’t even have to threaten to kill your cat,”

“You didn’t do that last time,”

They continue to chatter as they walk away. Christine and Carlotta look at each other.

“I take it, that he’s the one we’re after.” Carlotta says as she watches them pass outside.

“Who the hell is that guy?”

\--

* * *

“Your friends are excellent stalkers.”

“They don’t normally do this. “

They keep their pace level and Meg is not sure what she is even doing. Vincent stops and points behind him with a thumb,

“Hey, want to come quietly with to a dark corner?” He pulls at her elbow and she pulls away, resists.

“I don’t care for the dark. That is where the monsters lurk and **Babadook**. Wait, we’re not stealing **his** top hat, are we?”

He shakes his head; he too fears the Babadook.

“Some people you just don’t mess with. Oh, darkness my only friend! Nyx will protect you; I know you worship her; I’ve seen you at the Bacchanals.” He winks. She shakes her head, smiling like she caught someone in a terrible lie.

“Her cult didn’t have those.” She says in an all superior tone.

“Ours did. Oh, come on, what harm could possibly come to you going into a dark alley with someone you don’t know?” He pulls at her hand as he walks backwards.

“Get home before dark,” she says quietly and lets him pull her.

“Don’t worry, when I kiss you, it’ll make the sun go down.”

“Fortune favors the brave.”

They are out of the view form passersby and Christine and Carlotta stop.

“Did she seriously just do that? What is wrong with her?”

“Hot mysterious boy, Delicious fun. Ditching the krab lump. Remember, she’s upgrading.” Carlotta and Christine investigate the alley.

“If he comes at me, I am going to be so pissed.”

-

* * *

Meg is backed up against the wall, he has both hands on either side of her.

“So, this is it then, hey? I always knew I’d die alone in the dark, I just always figured it be in a bathroom.”

“Jesus. I’m **not** going to **kill** you.” He backs off. He keeps his hands in the air, to prove to her his lack of ill will. She relaxes. He smiles and moves back towards her.

“I just wanted to give your friends a show, I mean they took the trouble to follow us.” He grabs her by the hair spins her around and let’s go.

“See? For them. Gotta keep ‘em entertained. You good? I didn’t mean to pull your hair out.” His features soften.

Meg fixes her hair.

“It’s fine. I don’t know.”

“Let’s try something. _Sing me something soft, sad, and delicate or loud and out of key. Sing me anything.”_

Her eyes shine and her pupils dilate, her skins tingles. He **knows** her.

“You would kill for this.” She says softly, amazed he knows those words.

“I need you like I need water in my lungs,” he looks at her, expectantly, urging her to continue. He walks backwards as Carlotta and Christine catch up.

“I am heaven sent; don’t you **dare** forget.” Her voice firmer, more confidant.

She feels something strange and new swell and swirl inside her. No one knows these words, she gets odd looks or some vague recognition when she sings in public, but no one ever sings the lyrics back, or even a, yes, I like them too, go to their shows?

“ _Take heart, sweetheart, or I will take it from you_.” He moves away from Christine and Carlotta and salutes and walks off somewhere in the shadow to the end of the alley, back to the street.

“Call me a safe bet, I’m betting I’m not!” She says to his void.

“What’s happening.”

“Those are my favorite songs. He knows my favorite songs.”

“ _Like oh my god, you two should totally, like get married!”_ Carlotta says and rolls her eyes.

“Far be it for me to tell you not to find mutual musical interests almost soulmatey attractive, but do you know him? Like, at all?”

“What does your “ _Angel of Music_ ,” look like again? What is his name? How old is he? And does he really live in a mirror, like you claim? Because that sounds totally normal! I _am_ the one who should be worried! You’re going completely **mental**!”

“Your tutor **lives** in a **mirror**?” Carlotta has now heard everything.

“No! He does not live in the mirror! That’s where I **hear** him!”

“From a magical mirror.”

“That’s not insane or alarming at all! I almost asked my Mother to send you to a mental ward for a week, because I really think you’re delusions are making you-“

“This isn’t about me! You’re the one who is-“

“Enough!” Carlotta rubs her temples.

“That’s enough excitement for an evening, both of you go home. I need a drink.”

The three walk back towards the street and out of the alley.

* * *

Christine returns home without Meg, she walks down the hall to her bedroom, she pauses, she turns to look at the door across from hers and frowns.

"I'm really worried about you." Christine says. 

* * *

Reyer and Raoul return from the ER and enter the office. Raoul groans his hand now bandaged. He is a frowny boy.

"I wish they gave me stronger pills."

"You did keep screaming, _give me the drugs! I need drugs!"_

 _"I was in pain! I literally have broken bones!"_ He shakes his damaged fist.

"You broke your hand, not a femur."

"I'd punch you, but my punch hand is broken and I don't want to risk it."

Reyer shakes his head in exasperation 

"You're not the only with a shitty day, there were 99 balloons in the lobby that I could have popped, but no, you had to go off and break your stupid hand!"

"I didn't force you take me to the ER!"

"You don't know shortcuts yet and I care about you!"

"Why are we yelling!"

"This is fun!"

"It is!"

Erik, who has been in the room the entire time, watches the exchange with little interest. He swirls his glass of wine around and waits for them to notice he's there. They do not, and continue their fun yelling. He walks to the desk, sits on the surface and says nothing and waits, watches, grows more irritated and bored.

Raoul turns and notices Erik and screams.

"Ah!"

"That's one way to greet the person you're," Reyer shakes his head. He picks up his things.

"You owe me 99 balloons!"

"Eat glass!"

"That's **my** line, hello!"

Reyer slams the door shut.

Erik indicates his damaged hand with his drink. Raoul blushes.

"I lost a fight with my desk. I probably should have left someone in charge. I did take the stage manager with me." 

"The production was over. " He waves Raoul to comes towards him, he takes his damaged hand in his, he examines it with some interest. He slowly massages it, and to Raoul's great surprise he's not in pain and it's less tender, and throbby. Erik has a magic touch!

"99 balloons?" Erik let's go of Raoul's hand much to the younger man's dismay. He pouts, but recovers quickly. He tries to look cool. He does a, ha hah, hey, pose. Erik isn't looking at him, he's distracted by something.

"Meg's boyfriend sent her 99 balloons, the note is here somewhere." Raoul looks on the ground he tries to remember when Reyer dropped it.

"This note?" Erik produces with his other hand. Raoul nods.

"Yeah."

"He called her Mona, are you certain they're for her?"

"Yes."

Erik finishes his glass of wine and stands up. He places the wine glass on the desk and fixes his tux.

"I need my black gloves," Raoul is sure he is pouting behind his mask.

_Where does he get all of his masks? Is that a profession? I mean, we have shoemakers, hat people._

"Why do you need black gloves?" Raoul checks out the gloves, they look fine. Clean freak? OCD? He does seem like he would be the--

Erik grabs a part of Raoul's that he'd rather not have treated in such a painful and agonizing and disrespectful manner.

"What did we say about questions?" He asks, his voice sweet, his iron grip, not so much.

"Don't ask?" He has trouble getting the words out. Erik releases and Raoul praises Jesus hallelujah. He doubles over and really needs to remember that one.

_Don't ask questions, keep that to the memory vault, I need stronger drugs, stupid, stupid,_

"Do try to remember the rules." Erik runs his hand through Raoul's hair. Erik sighs, he's about to suffer a great irritant. He kisses Raoul cheek, though his mask and turns around to his hidden door.

"Rain check, Little Leto, I have to quash someone," He blows him a kiss before he steps though the darkness and the door clicks and the wall becomes a solid wall again.

"That sounds ungood." Raoul says, hi voice hits a higher note than he would have liked.

* * *

Meg runs back up the steps, turns a corner, hits the right stones, in the proper order and the door is revealed. Her Papa thought that it was dumb when she suggested it.

She shudders as she fails to suppress the oncoming bitter memory film.

_“Believe in magic, muggle!” She stomps her foot, shakes her hair in a rage, throws her copy of the book at his masked face. It connects. He is too stunned at first to react. Meg looks at her hand, that previously held the book in equal shock._

_He recovers, he bends down and picks up the book, her favorite book. Meg bites her lip and tries not to look like the pathetic little girl she feels._

_He in kind smiles, she knows he is smiling despite not being able to see his face. Meg recognizes her error and her anger flees from her like a dog with it’s tail between its leg. Take me with you, she says in her mind._

_Something in her shakes, she feels like cold rocks are attacking her insides. She tries to get the book back, he, being taller than trees and **God** , evades her easily and then tears the book in two without effort, before giving her one half._

_He lowers himself to her level, holds onto her chin and in a sweet, melodic, very, I’m so angry, that of course I sound like I’m affable and will praise you, voice says:_

_“When you’re a very good little girl, you can have the other half.”_

_He kisses the top of her head, roughly runs a gloved through her hair._

Meg shakes off the memory and the feelings that still haunt her with it and slides through the small opening, pushes the wall back into place, she hears the mechanism make the sound she needs to hear to know it’s locked and fit.

She runs up the steps that lead the mansiony part of the house that this mausoleum is supposed to be.

Not too much more before she can find the lavish bits, and success! She just entered the grand parlor, and next she had to pass the living room, skip to the hallway that leads to her bedroom.

“And where do we think we’re going _**Mona**_?”

Meg stops or rather, she hops hops, and then stops. She does not want to turn around.

She forces herself to. 

"What was that?" She has her eyes squinted, to avoid having to look at him and tries to sound confused and innocent. He's holding a note, her note, between his fingers.

"Ah, well."

Here we go. She waits for the doom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Existentialism on Prom Night: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atobNYW_rPA  
> Okay, I believe you, but my tommy gun don't: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slsUsaXOb1w  
> Boy who blocked his own shot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0naRFSK2hQ  
> Good to know if I ever needed attention all I have to do is die: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81e70X2eYUA  
> Play Crack The Sky: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6X8SMN9hNgs


	15. Denny Leaves In This One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg remembers things and then watches her favorite movie with her favorite person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGVX033PiDA  
> (the song)
> 
> when I talk about his masks, this is usually what I have in mind, grand, over the top gaudy, and artful
> 
> https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB114QPsiAnBKNjSZFvq6yTKXXaA/H-D-Novelty-Full-Face-Women-Masquerade-Decorations-Venetian-Party-Mask-Masquerade-Mardi-Gras-Wall-Decor.jpg
> 
> https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=full+face+masquerade+masks&qpvt=full+face+masquerade+masks&form=IQFRML&first=1&scenario=ImageBasicHover
> 
> https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB114QPsiAnBKNjSZFvq6yTKXXaA/H-D-Novelty-Full-Face-Women-Masquerade-Decorations-Venetian-Party-Mask-Masquerade-Mardi-Gras-Wall-Decor.jpg
> 
> https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Carnevale+Di+Venezia&form=RESTAB&first=1&scenario=ImageBasicHover

* * *

* * *

**2011, home sweet home**

Meg likes to pretend that she is a magical creature that weaves in between different worlds and dimensions. She is kept at home now that her boarding school burned down.

She is educated by her parents, and she is only ever allowed to go out if she is with one of them or their friend. Denny is their current friend; he takes her to the park and sometimes they take the train and go to more distant places.

He has taken her to Cape May, to wonderful camping places, theme parks and circuses. Denny makes her promise that these adventures are theirs and when they are asked about what they did, that she does not tell them everything.

“Your parents are very proud people, and they would feel neglected if we told them about our adventures, you wouldn’t want to hurt them, would you?”

“No!”

Meg loves her parents, she is **very** close to her Papa, and she would cry if she ever hurt him, even if on accident. She hugs the doll he gave her on the day she was born, close to her chest.

She never goes anywhere without it. She takes good care of it. She washes it, they drink tea together, go on adventures, and sleep together. Papa even crafted her doll a little bed, so she would not crush her on accident while Meg slept. She keeps it on her nightstand.

“This will be a Denny and Little Meggy thing.” Denny is the only who calls her, “Little Meggy,” her parents usually call her “Marguerite,” or “Meg,” if they are feeling lazy. She is always Denny’s Little Meggy.

He takes her hand and they go on an adventure. Once it is over, they make their promises to keep certain aspects of their day to themselves, their hidden places and world. Meg is usually then told to finish her studies and Denny spends the rest of the day with her parents.

Denny and Papa are pretty close, and Meg sometimes thinks that Papa likes him more, Meg knows that Denny will not spend time with her, if Papa demands his attention and affections, and boy you do not deny her Papa when he wants your attention or affection!

Sometimes she gets sad, when neither spend time with her. It depends on how insatiable her Papa is, he is very greedy.

“Erik is **all** of the seven sins,” Mama said to Denny once, Meg did not know what it meant, but Denny laughs.

“That’s an **understatement** , Toni, you of all people know better.” He winks, and she smiles.

There are times where Papa does not tuck her in at night or sing her favorite songs and stories. His voice is magical and feels like she is taken to different worlds, and planets when he sings to her. She’ll do anything for him to sing for her.

Sometimes he is cruel and says awful things to her, when she cries, it makes him happy and he laughs and then he kisses her on the top of her head and he says he loves her, and she knows he doesn’t mean it, and he doesn’t.

One time, she heard her parents argue, or as to close as arguing as they did, Mother and Papa rarely argued, Mother is afraid of Papa’s anger and darkness.

Her Mother for some reason, could not help herself that day.

“So help me Erik, I **will** take Marguerite away from you and your influence and _you will never see her again!”_

He laughs, no not a laugh, laughter is sweet and comes from a place happiness, love, and friendship. That **sound** did **not** come love. It hurts Meg’s ears; she covers her ears to protect them from the cruel sounds and darkness.

“I have no feelings for her, do what you want.” Meg swears she can hear his smirk.

Mother had not expected that, and she made her own strange noises, of fear and sorrow. That only feeds her Papa’s cruelty and he makes more of those awful sounds.

Mother leaves the room shaking and Meg remembers crying until her eyes grew sore and swollen. Denny found where she hid herself, he kissed her eyes, and he carried her to her bedroom. He tucked her and her doll in.

“I love you, Little Meggy. Remember that. You **are** loved.” He turns off the light and closes the door softly.

When she wakes up the next day, instead of going to her Papa, she runs into Denny’s arms. Something that Denny had not expected. He feels uneasy and Meg _wants_ him to feel happy and relaxed and she knows what always works with Papa!

“I love you, Daddy.” She swears she meant to say, “Denny,” but, “Daddy,” sprang from her lips, and It feels right. Denny’s body tenses. He knows something little Marguerite did not. He prays to the gods above that Erik did not hear this.

He has no such luck, he looks over, he sees him. Erik is frozen, stunned. This is not good. Denny must act quickly. He tries to pull her away, to reassure Erik that he is not here to take his place.

“Meggy, I’m not your Daddy,” he says, his voice full of sorrow. He looks past her; Meg holds him tightly and he must pull her away with force.

“Why don’t you see if you can find nargles?” He winks, and Meg smiles and she runs off on her own adventure.

She doesn’t see that her Papa is standing there, arms open waiting for her to come to **him, _like she is supposed to_** , and how she called another man, “ **Daddy** ,” and **dared** to even make such utterances of **love**!

Meg did not acknowledge him or know him, she ran past him like he was dust in the air, something that you just did not see anymore, even though you know it is there.

Denny thanks all the gods that Erik wears those masks because he could not take seeing his face. Erik looks at him, **into** him, **through** him, his golden feline eyes are **burning** with something that goes well past **hatred**.

Hours later after she grows tired of her games, Meg seeks out Denny. She finds her Mother, she looks scared and sad. Meg climbs onto her Mother’s lap and they embrace for a long time.

“I love you, Mama,” Meg kisses her Mama’s cheek and her Mama looks over at her, tears in her eyes, Mama never cries, this scares Meg. She holds onto her Mama tighter.

“Marguerite, there is something I have to tell you-,” Mama’s voice is hoarse and rough. Her Mama is trembling. Mama is strong and fierce. Mama only ever gets like this if she and Papa argue, which is rare.

“Marguerite, I-“

“Honey, I’m home.”

Meg’s Mama closes her lips, she looks over to Erik. He is dressed all in black, and is wearing one of her favorite masks, the cool green one, ornate gold vines accent the face, and the slightly parted lips are painted blood red.

He’s wearing a deep purple robe, that Mama hadn’t see because of the light.

“Erik,” Mama does not get further than her, he is in front her, he kisses her roughly, he does not take the mask off or free his lips.

“Why are we crying?” He cups her face with gloved hands, Mama notices that they are black, not his preferred white.

“Erik, where, what did you do?” Her voice is shakey, nervous. Mama is not nervous. Meg gets scared again.

“Hm? I went to dinner.” He looks over and studies Meg. She reaches her arms out.

“Me? You want **me**? Not **Daddy**?” She nods.

“Papa!” Meg wants his touch and love. Erik takes a moment, before he gathers her in his arms, she wraps herself around him and rests her head against him, she feels safe and warm, past hurts forgotten.

“I love you,” she yawns, and she falls asleep in his arms.

“Erik, what did you—”

He ignores her as he takes Meg to bed, he tucks her in, her doll, like their routine. He whispers and sings words of love, kisses both her and the doll, because that is what she begs for, he turns off the light and closes her door softly.

When Meg wakes in the morning, she goes to her Papa, like usual, they have breakfast, and she notices the empty chair.

“Where’s Denny, Papa?”

Her Mama cannot finish her breakfast, Papa does not eat, just drinks copious amounts of coffee. He is wearing Meg favorite mask, the one she helped make with him. It is Rose gold, glittery, and pretty. Meg loves when he wears it. He let her paint the lips a bright teal because fun!

“Denny?” He asks, his voice a sweet lullaby. Mama looks pained. She looks at Erik, she is pale.

“Denny, isn’t with us anymore.” He says dismissively. He finishes another cup of coffee and pours more into his mug.

“Erik,” Mama sounds like her voice is going to run away.

“Why?” Meg asks, she frowns. She likes Denny. He is her friend too.

“He was **naughty**.” Her Papa says, he sounds like he is teasing, but Meg doesn’t like it. It is his cruel voice, the one he uses when he wants to make Meg sad. 

“Naughty?” Meg asks, she does not believe it. Mama stands up abruptly, hitting the table as she does. She leaves without a word. Papa’s eyes follow as her body retreats.

“Mmhm. You know what happens when **you’re** naughty,” he says, he wants Meg to answer.

“I get punished.”

“That’s right.”

“Is he grounded?”

Papa laughs, and Meg does not like the sound, it is wrong. She does not want her waffles anymore.

“Will I be able to play with him again?”

Papa stops laughing. Meg knows she asked the wrong question.

“ **No**.”

Meg looks away from Papa, he is scaring her now, she closes her eyes and sings a song inside her mind that Denny taught her.

Her Papa is by her side and he holds onto her and rests his chin onto her shoulder.

“You don’t **need** him **.”** Papa takes her hand into his and he squeezes it comfortingly.

“He didn’t say goodbye.” Meg cries. Papa kisses her cheek and continues to hold her hand.

“No, he didn’t. What does Papa always tell you about others?”

“That I can’t **_trust_** _**anyone**_ , they’ll **_hurt_** me.”

“That’s right, and Denny hurt you, didn’t he?”

Meg cries louder, she nods.

“But Papa won’t. I can trust **him** ; I can **only** trust him.”

He holds her close, **_tightly_**. Meg winces, it is painful, but she does not say so. She does not want to hurt Papa or have him think he hurts her.

“Correct,” He kisses her cheek, “You don’t **need** anyone else.”

She shakes her head.

“I only need Papa.”

“Good girl,” His embrace is crushing. He lets her go after a minute, he kisses the top of her head and goes back to his seat and coffee.

\--

* * *

Meg shakes off the memories. She is not sure why she thought of him. She’s not thought of Denny for a long time. He left without saying goodbye and he can stay away, for all she cares.

“He’s **not** my boyfriend, if that’s your worry.” Meg tries to keep her tone light, and Vincent is not her boyfriend.

“He sent you **99** balloons.”

“He’s different. We are new **friends**. His school sends students to our Opera productions, he remembers me dancing in one. Hence the card. Tony Danza, instead of “Tiny Dancer”, it’s a pun, a humorous play on words and that’s where the comedy comes in,” Meg says in one go and she feels exhausted.

“I understand the epigram.” He is not in a good humor.

“We’re just **friends**.”

“Why, ‘Mona’,”

“It’s a game we play. We act out movies, and the other day we did _Buffalo 66,_ and he said I was Mona. We like that name better _.”_

“This the same night you refused to contact your Mother and showed up after your curfew?”

Meg cannot help herself:

“Is it **really** breaking curfew when I **don’t** live with you?”

**_“Tread carefully.”_ **

“Yes. I was with him, we lost track of time, he walked me home, end of it. I promise.”

He crumples the note. Meg winces, she is not sure why, she can’t feel the paper’s pain. He strides towards her, grabs her chin, and turns her face.

“He struck you.”

“It was an accident. It happens, he gestures when he speaks like you do, you can’t tell me you’ve never accidently slapped someone.” She forces a chuckle.

“You’re lying,” he lets her go.

“Okay, fine. He was annoyed, but he apologized, and we moved on. He’s not **abusing** me, we’re _friends_!”

Those golden feline eyes bore into her soul. Her head feels heavy.

“It was nice to spend time with someone who knows me,” Meg says softly, she turns to go.

“I know you.”

“You don’t **want** to spend time with me,” she does not look back as she walks in the direction of her room.

“Stop.”

Meg does.

“What’s the name of that **_insipid_** film you like?”

Meg feels a pang and ping of excitement build inside.

“Killer Klowns.” She breathes, all her hope in those words.

He sighs, and nods. He holds out his arm. Meg giggles and then runs forward and grabs onto his arm and wraps herself around him.

“Can you do the voices and sing the song? You make it sound sooo much better when you go full Opera!”

He nods, he hates that film so much. She kisses his masked cheek and he leads her to the media room

“Oh, I kind of had it out with my friend, the one I told you about, Christine! She’s the one Mama has me live with when I’m not with you.” Meg entering chatty baby girl mode.

Meg fails to notice his subtle amusement. He plays up the irritated father role.

 _Meg is almost **too** easy to manipulate_, _but she is **mine**. _

He smirks darkly behind his mask, and to continue the game, he sighs exasperated.

“Yes, the one you think is squirrelly.”

“Papa, she **talks** to a **mirror** , she thinks someone **lives** in her **mirror**.” She gives him the, _like oh my god, hello and duh,_ teen face and dance.

“Yes, I know. You’ve said this, I was there.” He opens the door, that separates the media room from the rest of the manor, and Meg runs to the projection booth.

“And she thinks I’m **insane** , because I get along with someone who listens to Brand New like I do.”

“That’s not why anyone thinks that” he says softly. Meg pops her head out of the booth,

“Huh! You say something?”

He waves his hand in the negative. She finishes, what she is doing, she runs back to the seating aera and they snuggle together, she presses the remote for the lights to go down.

"I love you. Papa." 

He pulls her closer and kisses the top of her head, she settles and the film starts.

"You remember you **promised** , the song and the voices." She whispers, the desperate child wanting Papa to keep a promise, he does, he's a master at this game, he starts his Operatic version of the theme, and Meg is delighted with the chills and his musical power. She claps her hands and is in awe. Once it's over she settles back into him, holding on him tightly.

When film is over he escorts her to bed, and he before he bids her farewell he presents her with a gift.

"My doll? I almost forgot about her." She takes it instantly, she feels complete, a missing piece came home. He nods and caresses her cheek

"I **meant** for you to keep her, she watches over you for me, when I cannot."

"I remember when we went to France a few years ago, they lost the bag I had her in. I thought I wasn't going to **die**!"

She tip toe kisses him and then she goes to her room.

"Goodynight, Papa, love you forever and always!"

She closes her door. He waits outside for a minute before he walks away with purpose.

_New insects, this will be **fun**._


	16. They're Just Friends, Monsieur Phantom!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine meets Vincent, Rodney's team wins, Raoul life gets more life, Meg goes to her first high school party!
> 
> also, the Babadook (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rqqx32fiQkA&t=87s)  
> and Erik's mask today: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/44/46/87/444687c73d4f4b5d0bfe574b0387dd87.jpg  
> space milkshake: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c282VG971C0
> 
> The People Under the Stairs: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEyQIcuGwDw
> 
> it used to be my favorite film, perhaps this says something about me personally.
> 
> have fun.

* * *

* * *

Christine is trying to recover from a rather very over the top, ha, ha, ha, ouch, my soul has a wedgie now, phone call which led to a confrontation and a presentation of a new guidebook, thick and thinly veiled threats.

If Christine had some alcohol, she would likely drown her senses in it right now. The door to the apartment opens, and Christine, hides, but still is eye level enough to see who is intruding.

“Tinnie? What happened, was my mother here? I can smell her disappointment.”

Christine pops up, relieved.

“Megtastic! She was! We were on the phone, then the door opens, and your Mother walks in, looks directly at me, “ Christine puts two fingers together, indicates her eyes and Meg,” and continues to look into my soul and speak on the phone.”

“But you both were in the room at that point.”

She nods.

“Yeah!”

Christine holds up a very thick book, heavy reading. Meg hops over the sofa and joins her friend.

“This is the guidebook to care of you, second edition. There are at least _three hundred_ pages on your father. Is he _the Babadook?_ Like, what the hell?”

Meg shakes her head.

“He’s not the Babadook,” Christine relaxes, but Meg’s ashen face brings the fear.

“ _Papa’s_ what the Babadook has **nightmares** about.”

“That’s supposed to be Buffy Summers.”

“Nope, more fearsome of my Papa. Buffy would **die**. Like, again, but it would **take** , if they ever stepped up, and you know how Buffy is my person.”

“Why did we watch the Babadook again”

“We were young, naïve and taken in by his sharp dressing, as ZZtop says, ladies love a sharp dressed man.”

“You have an encyclopedia knowledge on musicals and modern music, but not Opera, and you dance for an Opera House.”

“I want to sing _For Good_ with Sutton Foster and Lea Salonga and David Bowie, while Prince is just **there**.”

“I would pay my soul to see that.”

“Uh, duh, you are human.”

\--

* * *

Raoul feels like he is in a good place. His best friend is slightly less crazy, Jules, the slightly less crazy best friend’s fiancée bought out the pedophile Lord Chauncey, and as expected, has no interest in the Opera Populaire and leaves all decisions to Reyer and Raoul.

_“Meri has access to my accounts, take the money you need for productions, I have enough to spare, don’t copy me into your emails, I work for a living and need that clutter free.”_

Jules is a business manager and has five businesses he manages and has his own architect firm. He is currently in South Africa at job site for another two weeks, has no interest in Opera Populaire outside supporting his beloved, he sends blank checks, and trusts Meri without question. The best situation ever.

Raoul got to the next level on candy crush, because. Yes. He does that too. _Oh, and he has sex now._

Last night after a long day of babysitting 36 different egos, all Raoul wanted to do was have some gin. He goes to his bar, gets the gin ready goes to his favorite armchair and he enjoys.

After he finishes his first round, he feels **_extraordinarily_** _**strong**_ hands on his shoulders, offering the most delicious massage. It felt so good, he almost fell asleep.

He was about to when he felt hot sensual air breathe into his ear,

_“Rain check.”_

Rain check indeed!

Erik **broke** his bed!

The bed has been in the de Chagny family for years! It is an **heirloom**. Raoul still has trouble accepting it, and he is lying in bed and can see the damaged headboard and the bed’s frame collapsed and now it’s some kind of leaning disaster.

“Your bed is inferior and ancient. If you had something proper for an adult, this would not have happened,” Erik says dismissively.

“I like this bed,” Raoul pouts.

“I’ll buy us new one.”

_He said us_

Raoul feels like giddy schoolboy, this is still all new and magical, every moment together is like a sexy Christmas.

Erik grabs Raoul brings him close, and he lifts his mask up, just slightly, Raoul has still never seen his lovers face, and he is trying to wait for a good time to ask about it.

He assaults Raoul’s mouth hungrily; he moves on top of the younger man and is given over to absolute selfish pleasure and desire. Raoul soon finds it difficult to breathe, Erik is not letting up, he ignores Raoul’s attempts to break free, pull away, you cannot use the safe word when someone’s **tongue** is choking you.

Raoul’s failed attempts for air only causes for Erik to tighten his grip on him and become even more fiercely passionate.

Raoul’s lungs start to burn, and he’s not sure he can last, he’s no longer feeling pleasure, but the pain that comes from needing to breathe before you suffocate, Raoul grows dizzy, light headed, and finally Erik relents, he parts his lips, they are mere inches from Raoul’s chapped lips.

Once the burning stops, it happens again. He rests his masked head against Raoul, and he settles his breathing.

“Erik I,”

“Same safe word?” He breathes into his neck, and he starts to trail kisses and bites across his jaw, Raoul cannot think straight.

“Yes, but the bed is broken,”

“We’ll **_destroy_** it properly and then you will stay with me until the replacement arrives, now be **silent** , Little Leto, I have work to do.”

\--

* * *

Meg and Christine go out for coffee, but instead of the usual, they go to one on their block, movement in the bushes of a townhome catches Meg’s attention and she stops, it takes Christine a moment to realize her friend stopped.

Meg bends down and looks through the bushes and then screams and falls on her butt. A hoppy twitchy brown rabbit runs down the sidewalk and into the street.

“I had a pet rabbit once.” Meg says to Christine.

“Really?”

“I named him Keaton, after Buster Keaton and the character from Zelda.”

“How long did you have him?”

“A few months, I think he ran away. I come back and his cage was open and so was my window. I never leave my room like that when he was with me, but it only takes the one time.”

“I’m sorry, that must have sucked.”

“I cried for three days. My friend Denny gave him to me for my birthday. A week after Keaton bounces, Denny leaves too. Didn’t say goodbye either.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hate when friends just, it’s like they stop existing.”

“What it feels like, he and my Keaton, chilling out there on some ether.”

“Have you tried to find Denny? Contact him?”

“He left without saying goodbye, fuck him. Do not need him. The rabbit though, I miss the hell out of him. He was so cute! He loved being held, well held by me. He did not like Papa, he **hissed** at him! It was so funny, Papa **_hated_** him.”

Meg starts to hop, hop.

“He would like thump or whatever, and I wanted to take him on walks, but Papa and Mama said that was a stupid idea, so we went on adventures around the house, he was scared of the dark and storms like me! We would snuggle in bed together.”

Meg laughs at an oncoming memory.

“This one time I was sick, and we cuddle the wuddles, and my Papa comes in, I guess to give me medicine, but when he tries to hand it to me, Keaton tries to launch at him, he ends up **_biting two of his_ _fingers_** , pretty **hard**. He made Papa bleed. IT was just so like **on,** I laughed. I had no other way to react! I miss that rabbit’s stupid twitchy face,”

Meg sighs.

“ He’s was the best birthday present I ever had, and then, he was gone like a thief in the night.”

“Note to self, get Megtastic a rabbit and nail her window shut for her birthday.”

“Yes, of all the affirmatives! I want that. Do that. Give me that.”

“Noted.”

“Okay, can we talk about you now?”

“I don’t have a pet rabbit.”

“You have a boyfriend who lives in a magical mirror. Please. Elaborate, I don’t want to have to have you committed.”

Christine frowns.

“He doesn’t live in the mirror; he is behind it. There is room behind the mirror.”

“A secret room, behind a mirror. That’s very Alice in Wonderland.”

“Through the Looking Glass.”

“Same Difference.”

“Different books.”

“So, hm.”

“What?”

“A secret room behind a mirror, sounds like a Meg and Christine adventure.”

“It’s closed, the Opera House.”

“Not tomorrow, after everyone leaves.”

“Meg.”

“Maybe it’s like the movie, where the freak lives in the walls. Instead of rats. We have . . the People who live under the stairs, but in walls,”

“That’s not a good.”

“I need to check out this frood, make sure he worthies of you.”

“Meg.”

“People who live in walls, are not normal, but I’ll feel worse, if I don’t figure this out. I want to make sure you’re good.”

“Same with the weird boys in your life. Rodney is an ass, dump him. That Vincent, Billy, I have no name, gives me the wiggins.”

“We check out your boy first, and then we can look up my new **friend**. We are just **friends**.”

“It seemed like something else.”

“It was the moth being attracted to light. It is when you find shinies. It’s a new friend, so you go through the magical stuff of finding things out, like movies, food, music, where you would hide the bodies.”

“You would use lime in the park.”

Meg nods, Christine sighs and gives, concedes.

“Fine, we look up my guy, prove he's not a creeper, and REAL. And we start a police investigation on your **friend**.”

“I think police investigation would be,” Meg remembers something, she runs down the street. Christine follows her in hot pursuit.

They run for blocks, Meg loses count, she finds the house, she checks the handle, it’s open, and she goes inside, Christine follows, staying close to her side.

Meg turns on the lights.

“Oh.”

The table and chairs are empty.

“What were we expecting to find?”

Meg is shaking. Christine touches her friend’s shoulder,

“Meg, who’s house is this?”

Meg says nothing, shakes her head and back away.

“Meg? Talk to me.” Christine wraps her arms around her friend.

“Meg, please, now you’re scaring me.”

“There were,”

“Mona! What a surprise! Breaking into my home, please come, force your away into my mini bar while you’re at it.”

Vincent Gallo is holding groceries bags and sets them down on the table.

“Or you could take back being rude and help me with this.”

Christine notices something on the inside sleeve of Vincent’s hoodie.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” he bows, and waves her off,” it’s not all my blood. Have you ever been to the butcher? Some of them just suck.”

He pulls out wrapped items that are covered in a white material.

“Butcher?”

“I like to grill. It’s kind of my jam. Hey, have either of you seen, _Bleeding House,”_

Meg makes a strange squealing sound and she grabs onto Christine.

“I’m just kidding! That movie is terrible. Hey, let us order pizza and get weird,”

“Get weird? How.” Christine is using her, we will go to war, voice.

“Do you like to cosplay when you watch movies? I just got this stupid movie, Spacemilk,--”

“That movie is a lie!” Meg shouts, she recovers.

“Huh?”

“Anyway, I’ll order pizza, you two settle, Meg can you figure out how to set the film up?”

He throws her his DVD, she catches it.

“Is this seriously happening right now?” Christine asks as they go into the other room.

Meg sets up the DVD and sits down on the couch with Christine.

“Why did you want to come here? Why are you shaking? You are cold like death. Meg, Marguerite, what is happening? What’s wrong?”

“The Za has been ordered! Now, as I am the best host ever, I offer you this,” he holds a small plate, three green pills the size of aspirin.

“And what are those?”

“It will open your mind and spit in the face of Babadook, because fuck that guy!”

Meg takes the pill

“Meg, spit that out!” Christine grabs her and tries to open her mouth,

“It’s green tic tacs! Your face!” He hops over the couch and pops the reaming green tick tacs in his mouth. Meg nods.

Christine leans in, “do that again I will call your mother.” Meg squeaks and nods.

“Hey, I got one for you, _Hells Bells, buckets of blood_ ,” he says to the girls, to Meg.

 _“I Love you til I die!_ Great Malarkey! Try this _, we turn our music down, and we whisper, we’re sitting on the ground, we turn our music down, and we whisper, the next time I am in town,”_

Christine looks at the two, confused and uneasy, refusing to leave them alone.

“ _The next time I am in town we will kiss girl! We will kiss girl!”_ He blows her a kiss

_Yeah, because these two are **just friends**. I need to monitor this and maybe shut it down it. Meg, **you** **suck** at picking boys. Please be a nun, make my life easier so I do not have worry about you._

_“Your kiss my might kill me so won’t you kill me, so I die happy,_ ’ Christine says, joining the game and conversation.

“My favorite by them! I taught you good!”

Vincent stands up and grabs Christine

“ _The streets were wet, and the gate was locked, so I jumped it and let you in. You stood by the door, with you hands around my waits and you kissed me like you meant, and I knew that you meant it.”_ He goes to kiss her, but Christine turns her head away.

“I love that song too.” She moves out of his embrace.

“Oh, space milkshake. It’s starting.”

They turn the lights out, Christine, places herself in the middle and it begins.

\--

* * *

One spaceless milkshake later. The three are very confused and very annoyed.

“Where was the milkshake?”

“I don’t get the duck joke.”

“But the milkshake? Is it a metaphor?”

“I think the duck was.”

“But why would you call a movie _Space Milkshake_ and not include a milkshake, from space.”

“I guess it’s just a random title, Megtastic.”

“I want my space milkshake!” She crosses her arms and angry pouts.

“Shit! Meg it’s after ten. We have to go.”

“Is it really breaking curfew if I’m out with my guardian?”

Christine grabs Meg and pushes her out the door,

“Thanks whoever your name is, we have to go, her Mother is in town and she is **very intense,** god gah! We have to hurry, so dumb, didn’t keep track of time!”

Christine, with a death grip on Meg’s wrist runs as fast as her legs can take her.

_“Christine, you’re running faster than me!”_

_“Your mother is going to **kill** me if I don’t get you home! I just know it! She’s just going to appear, pop out of no where like her name is Jason!”_

Christine and Meg do their best to keep abreast of each other.

“Meg?!”

Christine and Meg stop, it is Rodney.

“No, we don’t have the time for—

“I’ve been looking for you all night, slut! You were supposed to go to my game, we won by the way.”

“You never said you had a game you wanted me to go to?”

“I texted you like, four hours ago.”

“Oh, I don’t have a phone right now, so the best way to reach me is,”

“Rodney, never a pleasure, Meg, we have to go now.” Christine starts to push Meg forward.

“Whatever, trying to talk to my girl here.”

“Your girl has to go to bed now,” Christine has Meg moving.

“Come to the victory party,” He pulls Meg towards him, he is stronger than he looks.

“Meg, you cannot go. You have to come with me.”

“Jesus, you’re not her mom, fuck off,”

“Rodney, don’t be like that, Christine is hired to take look after me.”

“like a babysitter?” He starts laughing, he doubles over.

“That is so dumb, a babysitter! Wow, really? Okay, maybe you should go and I’ll a different girl, who doesn’t play with Barbie's or have a diaper.”

That strikes a chord with Meg,

“ _Where's the party?_ ”

“Meg,” Christine grabs her arm

“You cannot seriously be doing this! He is an ass for one!”

“Christine.” Meg considers maybe that she should go with her friend and she starts walking, but two people from Rodney’s group grab Meg and lead her away.

“We’ll take good care of her!” They block any attempt for Christine to get to her.

“We’ll bring her back home in one piece, mom!”

“Gaaaaaah! I wish that stupid Phantom was real, and he got rid of that idiot!” Christine shakes her hands, turns around and walks home, but she is not happy about it.

\--

* * *

“ ** _Christine_**.”

Christine screams. Madame Giry is waiting for her inside the apartment.

“Marguerite is not here”

“I can explain.”

“Obviously.”

And Christine begins to tell her tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
> Buckets of blood, The Great Malarkey  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfOrALiSI8I
> 
> Hands Down: Dashboard Confessional  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_4qNnbbtsY
> 
> The best of me, The Starting Line  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGG0QYjdgJQ
> 
> Keaton is a fox god thing from Zelda:https://zelda.com.br/material/resize/keato_majora_mask-620x330.png  
> H'e's based off of this:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/280x280_RS/f8/e4/5c/f8e45c4f8ccf1d72baa508f57d547472.jpg  
> which is a Japanese god creature called Kitsune  
> this is a black rabbit: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/71/9e/9b/719e9bfd1986f12406e94cf9a94d965d--melanism.jpg  
> let's go with that's her pet, or don't. I don't own the words or your imagination once I put it out there  
> ^_^


	17. Raoul Can't Even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul and Meg have one hell of a night. Reyer has to wait to hear about it.

* * *

**2011**

Her birthday celebration is at its end. Meg’s ate the cake her Mother made, politely, and smiled through every sour, dry bite. She did her best her to keep her affect free from how awful it tastes. She drank all the milk, that did not take the sour away, but she could swallow and that’s what the point is.

There are some advantages to being forced to wear a literal mask all of your life, and now is one of those times. Her Papa is lucky and Meg is totally jealous in this moment. Meg suppresses the cough that she knows will lead to a fit and lack of breathing, and then her Mother would know she is the worst baker in France.

Denny, however, knows Meg too well, and finds it a brilliant, live comedy show. He keeps quiet, but his eyes twinkle with amusement and he is the one who keeps her glass full of milk.

Mother gave her a picture book on ballet, which included many pictures, and step by step guides on to perfect such movements, Denny gave her a book on rabbits, with an emphasis on the care of them, which confused her, but she thanked him all the same.

Her Papa crafted her a music box, with a ballerina on the top of it, which resembled a tiny Meg, and it plays her favorite song, the song he sings to her at night.

So, the birthday is over, and she is about to head to bed, Mother cleans up, and Papa is calling Denny over to spend the rest of evening with him, demanding his affections.

Denny does something unusual; he shakes his head and denies Papa. He does not go right to him, like he normally would, instead,

“Meg, you have one last present.” He runs off. Mother is puzzled,

“Erik?” She asks, wondering if perhaps, they had forgotten something they arranged. He shakes his head, equally confused, and then Denny appears with a strange black furry thing in his arms.

Meg is too stunned to process this, and a rabbit is now in her arms, with his twitchy twitch nose, its huge big floppy ears. It stands up on his hind legs, smells her, it licks her face, then settles back down.

Processing completed. Meg makes the highest of high pitch giggles, she squeals, she jumps from the sofa, and charges at Denny, he picks her up before she can tackle him, spins her around the room, both laughing and she’s not even speaking proper language for a few minutes.

“Best.Gift.Ever.” She is careful not to crush the rabbit. Denny sets her back down and Meg runs to her bedroom, talking to her rabbit and praising Denny as the best thing to happen in the galaxy.

She plays with the rabbit all day, ignores her studies, and goes on adventures with Keaton, her rabbit. She forgot about the ballet book, and the music box, not because she is cruel or malicious, but rabbit fun fun thing , kisses, kisses, thump, thumpy, thump. Books and music boxes do not do that, and Meg is a child with limited interaction with others, so another creature to share her secrets that is a living thing, makes her universe feel more whole.

\---

* * *

“ ** _Why_**.”

Denny and Papa are on the sofa together. Papa likes to touch Denny and play with his hair and face, which is what he is doing now.

“Every kid needs at least **one** fun pet in their life. Toni and you each had one, this is Meg’s.”

Papa does not like that answer, and Meg looks over in fright when she hears an awful noise. Keaton makes a strange growl hiss, Meg hugs him close on instinct.

Whatever happened, it is over and Papa is playing with Denny again, and Meg goes back to playing with her furry buddy.

\---

* * *

She wants to take him outside on walks and asks for permission.

“No.”

Mother’s face is unreadable. Her Papa is sketching in his book and he does not dare to take his eyes or anymore of attention away.

“Why?”

He picks up something from the table in front of him and throws it Meg. He does not realize he has done anything, until Toni throws it back at his head.

“ ** _Mind your rage.”_** Mother narrows her eyes.

There are rare moments when Mother stands her ground and will be on the offensive and defensive line against her beloved’s wrath and churlish tantrums.

He pauses his work, stunned, he looks over to his Darling Nettles, then to the cowering child. Darling Nettles clears her throat, she stares **into** his eyes, **unafraid**.

**_“Don’t you have something to say to your daughter?”_ **

She hisses something in a language Meg does not understand.

He sets his work down, gets off the sofa, stops in front of Meg, kisses where the object struck her, and she hugs him, Keaton tries to bite his knee.

“ ** _Heel_**.”

Keaton hisses and does not give into him.

“Keaton,” Meg picks him up.

Meg’s Papa recovers, kisses the top of her head, says he loves her and goes back to the sofa.

* * *

Meg gets stuck out in the rain. Denny was called away by her Papa, and he lost track of time and anything outside of Erik

Meg sits outside the door and waits. It is not until dark, that she hears the arguing and finally the front door opens, she’s pulled inside and placed into a hot bath, before she’s changed and tucked into to bed by **both** parents, a rare treat. They assault her with kisses and words of love.

The next morning her head is full of rocks, her throat drowns with cotton balls and cobwebs. She is delirious with fever, and if her temperature does not go down, the doctor says she will need to go to the ER.

Keaton curls up beside her. Her bedroom door opens, and Meg squints. From her end it looks like the King of Harlequins has chosen to make an appointment with her.

Meg cannot speak and feels bad she cannot bid a proper greeting. The King of all Harlequins has something in their hand. They sit down on the edge of the bed, and put their arm around her back, to bring her towards them.

Meg looks up in **awe** , and her mouth is opened, and the liquid is carefully poured into her mouth. She’s got some liquid on her mouth and face, so the kindly Harlequin King takes a handkerchief from their pocket and starts to dab the spots, and that’s when Keaton jumps off off Meg’s lap and bites the King’s fingers.

Meg can see the glove change from white to red, like it is like magic, and Meg thinks it **is** a magic trick and giggles. Keaton is thrown into the wall. The King goes back to cleaning Meg’s face.

The King sings her a song, that Meg is amazed that he even knows the words, because only her Papa knows that song, and if the King knows it, then they must friends, and Meg likes him even more.

He twists the key on the music box, her song plays, her door is shut quietly. Meg feels warm.

\--

* * *

Meg returns to her bedroom after a day of adventuring with Denny, Meg’s heart drops to the floor. Keaton is not in his cage; her bedroom window is open. Meg jumps on the bed, looks out the window, she jumps off the bed, crawls under the bed, no Keaton there either.

Meg is so distraught she skips dinner and does not leave her room. She cries until she is physically exhausted and passes out. This last for two more days.

Papa picks up her and they settle on her bed together, she does not want Papa, she wants Keaton.

“You loved it,” he says gently. Meg nods her head slightly, her throat is still sore, and it hurts to speak, and her eyes are red. She feels like cannon balls of stones are trying to pour out of her tear ducts. She tries to hide her face, perhaps the pain will hide too.

“What does this tell you?” He asks gently as he caresses her back and holds her close.

She does not know how to answer his question.

He adjusts his hold she her head is against his chest; he rests his masked chin lightly on her the top of her head.

“Why does Papa always tell you?”

“Only you love me.”

"Good girl," he tilts her head and kisses her cheek.

He holds onto her, his hug, crushing, powerful. Meg ignores the pain and discomfort, as he sings her to sleep.

* * *

**Now**

Toni Giry has two great loves of in her life. She has done many a terrible thing. She is not **_nice_** ; she does not have time to **fix** stupid or deal with weak minded fools. She takes what she wants, and she **_earns_** what she gets. Nothing is just handed to her like a free cookie.

She is blessed and thankful that she has her Marguerite. It was not an easy road for Toni and Erik to acquire Marguerite, and **_she will kill everything on this Earth_** if something happened to her and she knows that her great big oaf lummox of a husband feels the same

Toni screams, calls, shouts his name as she enters each room, before ending in the obvious choice, the room where she should have started.

She feels no shame as she strides up to his bed, she crosses her arms and she releases her rage.

“That **_stupid_** Swedish pet girl of yours let our Marguerite get abducted.” She says this in French and Raoul is very confused, he is still learning.

She looks into his eyes intensely. She trembles with rage.

Raoul swears he can smell fire and brimstone. Raoul hides under the duvet covers. He says the mantra that Reyer told him he uses when he is overly stressed.

Results pending

_“Bring her back.”_

“Always.”

He grabs her and pulls her towards him, she does not resist.

They kiss roughly and passionately before Toni Giry composes herself back into the severe looking woman she always is. She leaves Erik to it, for she needs a drink.

Erik is giddy! He gets to go on a hunt and capture part of the prey he intended to go after anyway!

Toni heads to the mini bar and her new mission to put the rest of her body at ease.

“The agreement is the same, you only get **one**.” Toni fixes her drink, throws it back, mixes another.

“I’ve never broken that vow,’ he sings. He looks his wardrobe trying to decide his hunting outfit.

“It’s **dark** , honestly. Just wear white or black, you’re not attending a masquerade carnival!”

Erik steps into the wardrobe and begins to dress.

“You've never understood my aesthetic,” He goes to his mask collection and picks up one, changes his mind, and finds another.

“You’re the most dramatic, no **theatric** man I’ve ever known, will know.” Toni leans against the mini bar’s cabinet, she is now drinking whiskey and watches her husband, she finds him just **_beyond_** sometimes ** _._**

He presents his hunters garb and Toni presses her lips together tightly.

“It’s not terrible.”

She cannot give him too much praise, bad things happen, he needs to have **some** humility.

He looks in the full-length mirror, dark slacks, a silver and white undershirt that has a silver metallic mesh, a dark coat, his favorite fedora, and his face tonight

Sliver and white, his favorite aspect, he must say, is the fabric over the eyes, the funeral veil, that you wear to hide the facet you are laughing. Toni helped him make this one.

He snap, snap, snaps all the fasteners, and presses it along the jawline, just to be sure it was in place. The problem with this one, is that it rubbed against his Adam’s Apple, so he had to deal with that. He told Toni she had her measurements wrong, but she refused to listen because of pride.

Still though, he looked damn good.

“Hang on, your hat is wrong, what are they called, the subtle pirate hats.” Toni goes into the wardrobe, finds what she wants and replaces the hat.

There. It stayed on the head, when she pressed it down, it was not dramatic, over the top loud, its smaller, rounder, no feathers, doesn’t need to duck when he walks around, well, no more than usual. Simple.

“Now you look decent. Did I mention it is dark? Near midnight.”

“I don’t think you have within the last two minutes, Nettles.”

“This is the most subdued I’ve seen your clothing.”

“I need to be able to move, and there’s no point in being **seen** when you’re **hunting**.”

“Yes, yes, go on Mr. Apex Predator, do what you have to, I’ll deal with this,” she points to the bed where Raoul is trying and failing to hide and go to a normal place.

“I’m still training him,” He kisses her and then he sets off.

Toni finishes her whiskey, sits on the bed, pulls back the duvet and Raoul has no idea what to do.

“This is the only time you will be allowed to ask questions without punishment. You may do so now.”

“What’s your relationship with Erik?”

“Complicated. Married. Separated. Soulmates. I **hate** him so much it **must** be **love**. What’s yours?”

“I’m not sure. Casual?”

Toni snorts, she shakes her head.

“ ** _Nothing is casual with him.”_**

“So, are you into a weird threesome—

“No. You are **not** my boyfriend. That bastard is **insatiable**. We are long lived, the two of us, and I have come to learn over the years that we have different laws that apply to us. _He will never be satisfied with one_. So, he gets to pick one more pet, uses them until they are nothing, **_and then_** he can choose another one. I do not engage or involved myself. **_This is not a threesome_** ; I have **no** interest in another lover when **_Erik is too much_**.”

Toni lets this information sink in.

“Sometimes I think I should be a nun.”

“So, still confused.”

“Erik gets to choose **_one_** new lover, after the last one dies or leaves, he may have another. He can only have one at a time, it is based on my approval, outside that, I have no involvement.”

She can feel judgment.

“Either I take control in this manner, or he fucks everything, **everything** that walks by him, breathes his way, or bumps into him on the street or the train. I can either have a **_cheating_** husband, or a husband who has a **_single_** lover,”

Raoul remains silent.

“Yes, I could leave him, so I don’t have to deal with this, but we’re adults, and when life gets complicated or throws something unexpected at you, you adapt or **_die_**. I chose to take charge, to adept. I still have power over myself and happiness, my marriage.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

 ** _IT does not make sense to_** Raoul and he needs Reyer more than he has ever needed him.

“Anyway, this is not your room, put your trousers back on and I’ll show you where your will stay. You will **not** mention this to Marguerite. This is a **marriage** issue, not a **family** one.”

This is Raoul’s first attempt at a relationship, so of course this would be his situation.

_Fuck, I need Reyer,_

* * *

“I thought we were going to a party?” Meg does not hate being out in the nature, but it’s dark, she cannot see in the dark, and spiders are out there, waiting.

“This is the party!” Rodney says, throwing his arms open. There are several cars parked on the side of the road, people are running into the darkness.

“That’s where Babadook lurks.” Meg shudders.

“Come on,” He pulls her along and follows the others. He leads her through the woods, branches hit her body, she is sure a spider is on her shoulder, not matter how many times she attacks her clothing and slaps every part of her body. They are evaders, the bastards.

Finally, they come across a bonfire or two, with teens getting increasingly rowdy and intoxicated. The alcohol smell burns Meg’s nose and she feels like she is going to contract all their hangovers, by just being present.

Rodney joins the fray; this is his world. He knows these places and people. Meg stays where she is and watches, with apprehension. She does not know anyone. What if they attack her with pinecones, or sacrifice her to someone? They are in the woods, there is a fire, drinking, that is how the Roman and Greek cults do, drink, eat, get high, and then shit gets real.

Right?

Meg stays by herself for a few more minutes before she attempts to be social.

“Hello, my name,” a beer is handed to her extended hand, and she is ignored the rest of the time.

She finds Rodney and he is chatting it up with two girls she does not recognize, she walks over, shakey hands, she tries to be cool.

“Hey slut, this is Lyla and Becca.” They girls wave, but they have no interest in her. Meg can feel their indifference. There is enough room on the log for Meg to sit, they just have to move over. They do not. Rodney doesn’t offer her to sit either.

“So, you all go to the same school?” Becca and Lyla laugh, but it’s not kind.

“Uh, yeah, and what? You’re like home schooled or something?” Lyla? Says.

“I would hate that. No hot boys!”

“No, bitch, you’d be related to them!”

“Gross, pass that.”

“Meg dances,” Rodney says, he offers no further information.

“Like, what? Are you a stripper?”

Lyla and Becca laugh.

“Is that even legal? How old do you have to be?”

Meg is used to be being talked about and not to, while the subject is about her, while she is standing there.

“Rodney, can we take a walk?” She asks. Rodney looks annoyed, he’s enjoying himself.

“What? Now?”

She nods.

“Fine, sure, whatever,” he puts his beer down.

“Don’t drink my beer!” He calls to the girls as he walks away with Meg.

“If this is a party, where's the fun?” Meg asks. They stop by a fair of trees, several feet away from the bonfire and others.

“What are you talking about. This,” he motions to the bonfire and everything around them,” is the fun.”

“I don’t understand. There’s drinking, sure, fire pretty, but shouldn’t there be more? No one is dancing, or singing or, I do not know. Everyone is segregated off, and it just does not feel very inviting or a party.”

“You don’t have to be such a bitch all the time. Maybe it is **you**. I am having fun.”

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“Just, I do not know, drink! And stop being so judgy.”

“I’m not trying to be judgy! This is the first party I have ever been to. I just don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.”

“Drink, hang out,” He shakes his head and goes back to the party. Meg sighs, she’s still holding the beer from earlier and she drinks it all in one go, she coughs, stumbles and walks forward and gets another one.

Meg finds a spot on a stump not too far from everyone, and is on her third cup of beer, she hates the taste, but she wants to have fun.

She closes her eyes and waits. Maybe something obvious will happen. She moves into a more comfortable position. Sleep time sounds nice, but wet.

“Want some fun? Where’d the fun go?” Meg mumbles. She hears something. Soft, her eyes open, she looks around. Her beer that was next her is gone. She looks at the bonfire, people are finally moving.

“Finally.” She tries to stand up, nope. She needs a minute; Rodney comes by and sits down.

“Are we fun yet?” She asks. He says nothing. She frowns.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. Bored. Ran out of beer,” he pouts. He puts his arm around her shoulders, and she moves closer.

“Is that when you know the party is over? No beer, time to go home?”

“No, you just drink something else or have sex.”

“Oh, well, heh, what’s there to drink?”

He leans in and kisses her, they part, and he tries to take off her shirt.

“Or sex,” he says,”

“Here, in the woods, in front of people and, and spiders?” She looks up, knowing that they would just love to form a web around her, trapping her, she shivers.

“Oh, come on,” he tries to take her shirt as he kisses her, Meg pushes him off.

“Not in the woods! That’s so unsanitary.”

“We’ve been together for months, and I haven’t seen you in your bra,”

“I just don’t want to rush. I do not know if I’m ready for that.

“It’s just sex,”

“It, I just. I do not want to. Not yet.”

“Fine, do you want another drink? They might have something.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He gets up and goes back to the fray. Meg hears something again. She looks at Rodney’s retreating body, before she goes further into the woods. She doesn’t have a phone to use for light, so she’s really hoping it doesn’t get too dark the further she leaves the bon fire.

There, something moves out of the corner of her eye.

“This how she dies, but I can’t die. I am not a slut or do drugs. So, I have to be final girl.” Meg uses that logic as a shield, she hears the twigs snap. She looks around, maybe if she reaches out

A terrible scream devastates her ears, Meg covers her ears and lowers herself to the ground, kneeling. A rabbit launches itself at her, before it runs off into another direction.

The shock of the rabbit knocks her down forward. She hears terrible noises and she decides to stay there and not die. She curls into a fetal position and waits for everything to stop. She keeps her eyes closed; something is next to her.

She says the first thing that comes to her head as a defense.

“I’m a virgin.” She hopes her lack of experience is a deterrent. Feeling that they are still standing here, she accepts her fate, she starts to take off her shirt, when something taps her nose.

She did not expect that. Hands put her shirt back on. She's raised into a seated position. Her chin is pinched harshly and shaken.

“How many times must we have this conversation,”

Meg now half wishes she had been found by some slasher trash man. She’s lifted up to her feet by a strong arm and she still refuses to open her eyes, now as a kind of awkward rebellion.

“Did we have fun?”

She does not know where he is taking her, she finally opens her eyes, but keeps her head low and focuses on the ground.

“I don’t know what fun is.” She says softly. She thinks that her shoes are now ruined.

“Not worth it?”

“I don’t think this is for me,” meaning teenage bonfires, Erik takes it for something else, and is pleased.

“Did we learn anything?”

“Life outside of Opera Populaire isn’t mine.”

“Perhaps not,’ he agrees.

Meg fell asleep, it’s funny how one can fall sleep walking, but she did, so Erik being the ever wonderful and most perfect father carried her home, he tucked her in, and one production complete, time for another.

Toni offers him a drink. He accepts.

“Christine isn’t working out.”

“No.”

“I will agree to alter the agreement, on the condition you remember she is your _daughter,_ not your prisoner or pet.”

Toni glares at him. The papers are in front of her,

“I don’t think that.” He says.

Toni doesn’t soften her features.

“I love her.”

Toni is still unconvinced.

“She should have always been with me,”

“I swear,” Toni slides the papers over to Erik,” if anything happens to Marguerite while she’s under your care, no power on this Earth will protect you from my wrath.”

He signs the papers, smiles, and leans forward and kisses her, she does not respond to his kiss or touch. She stands up, when it is over, takes the signed document.

“If I need you, I’ll find you.”

She leaves.

_Check._

* * *

As soon as Reyer enters the Opera Populaire, Raoul grabs him and drags him into a utility closest and blocks the door from being opened.

“You will **not** believe the night I had.”

Reyer, leans back, brings the coffee to his lips and waits for his entertainment


	18. Reyer and Raoul Became Each Others Person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VP8O6H-mWk  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QlWsLStRAiw
> 
> (Juicy juicy dangerous liaisons bits)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bch2mbnZx0I  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FUBVgfOgpA8  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2XB_Wp4_2c

* * *

Meri Reyer’s favorite film is _Dangerous Liaisons._ He has several copies of the book, seen the stage plays, and his ultimate fantasy is watch a real world version of this take place, while he watches as a ghost, unseen, ignored, gets to know and see all of the juicy, juicy.

Raoul just gave him this. Reyer feels like crying. His eyes are overcome, wet with his hyper joy, the tears burn, and he cries. Raoul is confused and remains still. Reyer moves forward and embraces the younger man.

“Uh, Meri,”

“Thank you so much.” He kisses his cheek and folds his over heart. He is in heaven.

“I am confused.”

“This made my life, my universe.”

“I didn’t tell you to brag, I’m confused, I need **serious** counsel. My life is getting life really fast, my brother is god knows where, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I need you to help me understand this, because I may go insane!”

“I understand. So. How you do feel.”

“Confused. Weird. Sick. Used. I don’t like any of this.”

“The thing is, you found out **now** , before it got too serious, too deep. You just **liked** him, right? You are casual, so you can still walk away, move on, least damage inflicted as possible. Then you and me can go out and find you someone."

“That’s true. I can still just walk away. I don’t owe him anything and we never talked about being IN a relationship.” Raoul feels good about this logic.

“So, there we are then. Say, this isn’t working out for you or me, thanks for the sex, I’ll send the rent check next week, have a good haunting.”

“I think I’ll use different language.”

“Like Farsi?”

“Never change, Meri. Unless you want to, I’m not your boss.”

“When we’re done for the day, we’ll go out for drinks.”

“Sounds good.”

“Then you’ll buy the 99 balloons you owe me.”

“You’re still annoyed about that?

“Yes.”

“I have to look over mail and other things, I’ll meet you soon. I want to see how the rehearsals are going.”

“They are that. Going.”

“That fills me up with confidence.”

They leave the closet and part ways.

The day is mostly uneventful. Carlotta is following Winnie’s instructions, and the Vocal Coach they hired for her, sent letters of her improvement, her temperament is still another issue.

Reyer only had two panic attacks, and Raoul was able to coax him out of the locked bathroom, by adding another 99 balloons to his order.

“It’ll be so nice, we’ll do it twice,” he says. Reyer opens the door immediately.

“Promise?”

Raoul nods, and to authenticate it, they perform their secret handshake. Reyer refueled with confidence and stage manger power, goes back to business.

Raoul goes to the office to gather his things. He pauses, trying to remember if he forgot anything.

“I’m pretty sure I paid the electric bill,” he runs it through his mind, he accepts the wine that is handed to him, while he tries to think. He clears his thoughts; he did what he was supposed to.

Raoul looks at his hands, holding the wine. He is taken aback. He does not remember how it got there

Erik is sitting on top of his desk, watching him.

_Sitting down he is still the tallest thing in the universe._

Reyer enters, excited

“Ready to get weird and meet strangers? Because you are not pre-ah!” He jumps backwards, and lowers himself to the ground, his hand over his heart.

“Hello, Meri,” Erik says amused and pleased at his reaction. He raises his glass to him.

“Greetings,” Reyer is breathless and remains in his position.

“Plans?”

Raoul cannot help himself, “That is a question.”

It takes a second for Erik to process the response and another for him to stand in front Raoul.

“So it is,” he places his hands on his neck, not squeezing, just there, he could do damage, but he’s not,” Raoul gets the message.

“Reyer is taking me out for drinks. We have things to catch up on, balloons to pop.”

“198!”

“198 balloons to pop, it’s Raoul and Reyer thing. Apparently.”

“How anomalous. And after?”

“Home likely.”

“He can stay at mine; it might make things easier.”

“Probably.”

“You’re staying at mine, remember?” He scratches behind Raoul’s ear.

“I don’t want to intrude on your **wife** ,” Raoul probably should not have said that.

“She left, she signed on with the touring company for another six months, as the manager of this opera house, you would know, surely.”

“She **_scares_** me.”

“Don’t worry, **_she’s afraid of me_**.” Erik taps Raoul’s nose.

“Ah.”

“She will only be around on certain weekends and you will not be spending time with her.” He moves his hands back to Raoul’s neck, one playing with his shirt collar.

“I’m sensing Raoul isn’t allowed to play tonight.”

Raoul tries to move to his friend, but he is locked in place. Erik is stronger than he looks.

“I can be reasonable. All you have to do Is _ask_.”

“Can Raoul—”

“Not you, dear.”

Raoul wants to punch him in the mask, he can hang out with whoever he wants. This is getting too much.

“You’re **not** my parent or elder, I don’t **need** permission from you to see my best friend. If you are looking for someone to **dominate** , that’s great but that’s **not** **_me_**.”

As the shock sets in Raoul manages to maneuver out of his grip and grabs Reyker’s arm as he makes the fastest exit ever.

“Still worth watching!”

“Eat glass and lick rust!”

“Fuck off, Raoul!”

\--

* * *

Meg knows that something is up, she can hear from all the of noises. She could go out of her room and ask, what is up, but she’s still not ready for that. She turns the volume up louder on her earphones and goes back to reading her book. The door opens, she does not see or know of it. The earphones are torn from her.

“Oh, god, what’s your damage, Heather!” Meg holds her hand over her heart, trying to calm her breathing.

“I’m going out, **don’t** leave. I’ll know if you do and I _will_ find you.”

Meg notes, that Papa is dressed for war the, Eyes Wide Shut, kind of war, while attending the Opera. She's glad she didn't inherent that kind of drama and fashion sense. Too expensive, too _French_ even for her. Of course, she would never speak her opinions unless she was delirious with fever.

_Mother is right, Papa is just beyond with his aesthetic._

“Fine, I didn’t plan on doing anything anyway.” She tries the rebellious teen thing, and have as much, ugh, oh my god, in her voice and affect. She turns her head away from him, because teen angst.

“Did you eat?” He brings her focus back to him by holding her chin. Of course, she forgot how superhumanly strong he is and those reflexes that spiders and cats are jealous of.

“Not hungry.” She tries to sound cool

“Fridge is stocked.” He says sweetly.

He kisses the of top her head.

“Don’t go out.” He whispers and then he leaves the room.

\--

* * *

“This is it,” Reyer and Raoul head into the overcrowded, badly lit bar. There dozen of people, chatting, screaming, laughing, moving, because that’s how talk they do, and some are dancing to the loud music, that is coming out of the speakers like a banshee with marbles in her mouth.

They squeeze to the bar, after three shout attempts, their order is put in, and several minutes later they get drinks.

“So, this is the bar you go to most nights?”

“No, it’s just the first one on this block.”

“Ah.”

Raoul drinks slow, he is not used to going out with other people. Even in college, as much as he wanted to be around and with people, he just found it difficult to connect.

“I almost joined a cult once. I left before the conditioning was complete.” Raoul admits.

“What, what? Also, tell me everything.”

“I was lonely. I did not have any friends and a cult, when you leave out the freak freaky, it's about bringing outcasts together as a family. You are loved.”

“It’s a lie, you are being conditioned.”

“They wanted us to farm.”

“Drugs?”

“People.”

“Oh, dear. What happened?”

“Nothing. I couldn’t go through with it, but I think the abuse stuck with me.”

“How long were you with them?”

“I don’t know, weeks? Months? I knew what I was getting into, but also not. I thought, if this is the only way people will want to hang out with me, love me, then why not.”

“Glad you woke up.”

They are silent and take this time to attend to their drinks. 

“My grandpa was a dick. If anyone ever needed to suck the duck,” Raoul has never told anyone this before. It felt good, but also scariest thing in the world. He keeps expecting Reyer to leave.

“My great aunt raised me and my sisters. She hated my younger sister, Margie, and would lock her in the closet, and she would be starved, the idea was that the sin would be purged from her body through isolation and repentance.”

“Holy shitsnacks, is she okay today?”

“Totally, she’s dead.”

Raoul sprays his drink out and onto the person in front of him. They turn,

“Fuck off, asshole!”

“Sorry!”

Raoul tries to move away.

“This fucking guy just spit his drink all over me,”

Raoul tries hard to get out of there, Reyer follows him. Raoul lets out a breath he did not know he was holding and leans against the outside building.

“One time I was walking, and I got sick of my gum so I spat it out and into an old man’s face. Like, totally connected, all the points.”

Raoul snorts.

“This Is other time at a Lea Salonga event, I get really into it and I did this fist pump thing all the cool kids do, and I punched a pregnant woman. I think that’s why the world hates me, if I think about it.”

“ _You punched a pregnant woman?!_ Raoul shrieks with laughter. Reyer tries to deter attention.

“It wasn’t on purpose, I’m not a monster!” People ignore him and he relaxes.

“I accidentally killed my neighbor’s cat. She was on the roof, so I thought I’d be the kind sir who rescues the cat, but it scratched me and it landed in this fan thing I totally forgot about, and I was covered in its blood.”

“Holy Christmas!”

“She called the police, they interviewed me and believed me. She moved away as soon as she could.”

“My car got hit by a bunny once.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, like eight or nine years ago. I am driving and this thump and **explosion** happens. I stopped, got rear ended, and on my car was this pitiful dying black bunny. I took It to the vet, they had to put it down. I think I cried, and it was not even mine. It was someone’s pet, ’Keaton’, was on their collar. It had a collar! It looked like a necklace. Worst Tuesday of my life.”

“That is sad.”

“There is some little. . . teenager that is out there, with a rabbit shaped hole in their heart.”

“You said it exploded?”

“Half exploded; it was weird. It came out of nowhere! I swear it must have been launched out of like a cannon. My car had a **dent** , like a **dent**. It cost me 2400 to fix the damage the bunny caused.”

“Holy Christmas, indeed. Circus bunny overshot?”

“Things in this life, man. Weird.”

Reyer pulls something out, it is a black satin necklace, with the name ‘Keaton’ on a rounded flat opal charm.

“I made a vow to find the owner of the bunny, give them this and apologize for ending their world.”

“You are a good person, Charlie Brown.”

Reyer pockets the Keaton’s necklace collar.

“Let’s see if we get any luck on attempt two.”

They walk in a direction of a new bar.

\--

* * *

“I think you’re the first and only friend I’ve ever had outside my brother,” Raoul says.

“I think you’re the **healthiest** relationship I’ve had aside from Jules.”

“Let’s try something, what’s a fastball special?”

“That’s when Colossus grabs Wolverine and throws the **fuck** out him of into the enemies. Favorite Companion/Assistant?”

“Romana, the first. It’s beyond my control. It’s **beyond** my control,”

“ _Dangerous Liaisons_ , duh. Kiss means kill, kiss means kill, kill me,

“ _Pontypool_. You made me watch that as a **condition** to be your friend.”

“Stupidest book you ever read.”

“ _Heart of darkness_ , worst writer ever.”

“I hated _Silas Marner_ , I wanted to love it so badly, but the author wouldn’t shut up and get to the goods.”

“George Elliot writes how she talks, a lot. Common criticism.”

“This is nice, because I usually have these conversations with myself, in my head, and yet,”

“You don’t have to anymore. I hate rainbows. They’re stupid. Unicorns are the worst. You know what is awesome? The Halla, from Dragon Age. They are mystical silver/white creatures that rule the fuck out of the woods.”

“I hate unicorns too. The last unicorn film, so boring. I find star tattoos to be like, the tooliest tattoo ever. Please, just **stop**.”

“Unless it’s part of their religion,”

“But it’s not! It’s just random stars, like they wanted to be a celestial being, you’re not Artemis or Leto, fuck off!”

Raoul winced at “Leto,” Reyer did not catch it.

“Leto?”

“Yeah, she’s the mother of Artemis and Apollo, didn’t really do much, which **sucks** , she’s a Titian and Titans were badasses!”

“She didn’t do anything else?”

“She pissed Hera off by fucking Zeus and spent her entire pregnancy on the run from a dragon, then she just is kind of there, but who cares, because Apollo!”

“Right, Apollo.”

“Cupcakes or brownies?”

“Brownies. Pie or cake?”

“Pie. “

They are silent for a moment and look around.

“I think you’re my best friend.”

“I think you’re my person.”

“Do you really need me to buy you 198 balloons?”

“Yes. Unless you were lying, and toying with my emotions.”

Raoul sighs.

“I think the toy shop is closed, when can do it tomorrow, we’ll sneak away, and you get all the balloons.”

“That’s the plan then.”

“Your sister Margie, you mentioned earlier.”

“What about her?”

“What was she like?”

“She was like summer. Bright, and gone too soon.”

“Were you able to escape? Find a better home?”

“No. She kept us all until we were eighteen or death, like Margie. Why was your grandfather a dick?”

“He **demanded** love. You know, how you love your grandparents because they are cool, they give you sweets, they praise you, go on adventures, they make you feel special? They don't expect anything in return, they just want you around because they love your stupid face,”

Raoul pauses, he has never told anyone this much about his life before,

“My grandfather expected you to love him **because** he was your grandfather. It was **law** , in his mind. He would kick you around, and you’d have to take it, and you **had** to love him, and if you challenged him, he gave you hell, your parents hell, and the cousins. So, you were alone, so we just kept the abuse going.”

“Then you joined a cult to feel love.”

“Then I joined a cult to feel love.”

“I’ve never talked about Margie to anyone. Not even Jules knows about her or what my great aunt did to me and the others.”

“I’ve never talked to anyone about my grandfather. My brother acts like it’s nothing. He’s dead now, so he can’t hurt us, doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I want someone to love me so much that they would write songs like, _Hum Along_ by Ludo, or even, _Maybe this time_ , from _Cabaret_.”

“I wish someone would write _anything_ for me, because I inspire, I matter, I exist.”

“Well, I have to write my best man speech, so there you go.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Let’s write a musical.”

“Okay.”

“Seriously. It will be about,” Reyer looks around, a sever passes them with a sandwich and chips on their tray.

“Grilled cheese!”

“Hm. Trying to think of a song’s melody to test this,”

“All that Jazz?”

“Hm, thinking, thinking. _And all that cheese! Hold the bun, I got some_ ,

 _“Find a snack, we’re_ —no. Hm. Maybe not that song.”

“ _My name is Munster Cheese, and I will—_

“Nyehh, something isn’t right there.”

“It’ll come to us eventually.”

“ _Sweet Transvestite maybe_?”

Raoul and Reyer both think hard and are silent for several minutes.

“ _How do you? I see you’ve my met faithful candied yams?”_

They both sigh in frustration.

“We’ll get there.”

“So, I think we’ve stalled enough,” Reyer says.

“Stalled?”

“You know what I mean, string beans, come clean, Jean.”

“Why are we rhyming?

“Text your subtext.”

“Erm.”

“Your _Dangerous Liaisons,”_ he says this in breathy flirtatious way, like a 30s star who knows how to keep it sexy with the clothes on!

“Oh god, that. No. I don’t wanna.”

“We are humans, with feelings. Tell me about yours, and specifically about that topic.”

“If we were meant to talk about our feelings, they would be called talkings.”

“Raoul, come on.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. Or do. I think he may kill me now honestly.”

“He does love his murdering.”

“It was just **physical** , and I don’t want just sex. I want love, friendship, fighting over stupid things, but it does not lead to violence, just you know, our thing.”

“You want to be the couple from Honeymooners.”

“I guess?”

“So, no emotional connection at all?”

“No, not really. I feel, worse somehow. Saying it out loud, it’s dark and real.”

“Talk to him?"

“You just want me to do this so, you can have your weird fantasy play out. I’m not your theatre!”

“I also care about your happiness.”

“And your weird entertainment. This is my life, Reyer.”

“I know, which is why it’s so delicious.”

“I don’t know what else to say. Maybe I’m not worth emotional connections.”

“Shut your damn mouth, after you suck the duck, of course. We have an emotional connection! You know, before we became our persons, I was taking 3 different medications for bleeding ulcers, three antidepressants, two additions to super charge the antidepressants, and Ambien, guess what? Now I only need one ulcer pill, still on the antidepressants but no more additions to boost them.”

Reyer pauses to take some drink, and then continues.

“I have this thing, where I pull out my hair, like I can’t control it, and when I’m beyond, and about to die, I just tear it out. I do not do that when you are around. The best part of my day is telling you to eat glass.”

Raoul is about to say something but stops.

“And I just told you a lot of crazy and **_you’re still here.”_**

“ **You’re** still here.”

“So, yeah you are worth the all the connections, you stupid magnificent basted, who can go suck ducks, after you eat all the glass.”

“I love you so much, I hope you get an infection when you lick all the rust.”

They raise their glasses to each other.

* * *

Raoul is not sure what time it is when he comes back home, but he does not care. He just had the best drinking experience, not alone, and with his person. He told Reyer some of his secrets and Reyer stayed!

He turns the light on for his kitchen. He jumps, and then remembers he’s angry.

“What do you want now?”

“I came to parley.” Those words are difficult for Erik to speak, and he has to say them slowly.

“What about? I am not changing my mind. I’m not your pet.”

“I am an alpha by nature and it’s instinctual for me to display dominance on the weaker animals.” Again, each word is said slowly, and with frustration and force.

_I wonder what his face looks like. Changing colors? Wonder if he has a mask that does that to match his mood._

“Well, I’m not a dog, I’m a human called Raoul. I’m not into whatever it is you think you can get from me.”

“I understand that. I got carried away.”

“So, there we are then,” Raoul waits for him to leave, to take the hint. He does not

“I would like to start over. I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

“You’re **married** , and you want someone **submissive** , which I cannot provide, so that leads us back to, I don’t want it.”

“I don’t want you to be submissive. Like I said, I got carried away. I was breaking you in.”

“Do you **hear** yourself?”

“I would like to start over. No rules,”

“No bullshit conditioning. If I want to spend time with my friends, I will spend time with my friends, I do not have to ask permission.”

“Ah, yes I can agree to that. It will be a process for me to alter certain behaviors of mine. I wont stop being me for you.”

“Ditto.”

“So, we are- “

“I don’t know. I am not your sex toy either. I prefer emotional connection. If you can’t provide that, then leave right now.”

Erik does not move.

“I didn’t intend for you to feel that you were.”

“Well, when all you do is show up and want to fuck me, what else am I to think?”

“That’s fair. Can we forget about earlier?”

“Apologize to me, and then I’ll think about it.”

“A-apologize”

“You hurt me, you were **threatening** to **choke** me, do I need to go on?”

“I am sorry that you misinterpreted my intentions.”

**_“Get out.”_ **

“I am not good at apologizing as you can see. I apologize for the threat and harm.”

Raoul shakes his head, and walks around his kitchen, not sure what to do.

“I want to go out, have anniversaries, be wooed, have a **partner, be equals**. Can you really provide that, would your **wife** allow for it?”

He nods.

“And your wife?”

“She approves, **_she_ **stays out of us, and **_you_ **stay out of our marriage.”

“This is so fucked. Of course, this would be my life, hey Raoul, want to have your very first relationship? Granted!”

He covers his face with his hands. Erik takes his hands

“I promise if you stay, it will be normal as possible. You will not see Nettles, and we will have our things, our life, our memories, our experiences, she will not be there, not even as a ghost haunting in the corner. She wants this.”

Raoul wishes he could see his face, see if he is sincere, his voice says yes, but Raoul knows that he cannot trust that.

“I need to think about it. I’ll let you know tomorrow.” Raoul takes a step back.

“If that’s what you want,” Erik says, he does not move.

“Yes.”

“Goodnight, Little Leto,” Erik kisses his cheek, through his mask and then takes his leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any suggestions on what song/melody for them to sample for their grilled cheese show stopping number are welcomed, thanks, or what they should name it


	19. It's Beyond My Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyer convinces Raoul to do a thing, and Raoul decides things.

* * *

* * *

Reyer sits down in front of Raoul with the most obnoxious smile Raoul’s ever seen and that includes some of the masks Erik wears and what he imagines his smile actually looks like. Raoul clenches his fists and curses the gods for his life getting so much life.

“So, after our conversation, what happened?” He leans forward on his elbows. If there were a tablecloth, Raoul would have pulled it.

“I went to bed.”

“On your _broken_ bed, that _he_ broke.” Smile is wider, Raoul exercises great restraint.

“Guest room.”

“So, what did we decide?”

“We didn’t.”

Reyer frowns.

“But the choice is obvious.”

“I’m not basing _my_ love life decisions on _your_ voyeur fantasies!”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so selfish, I need this! I can’t have my sex life, it’s in South Africa, at least with you, I can have vicarious funzies.”

Raoul shakes his head. How is this his person?

“If you want it so badly, _you_ go after him.”

“His **_shadow_** gives me panic.”

“I need to have a real conversation with you.”

“Fine, we’ll adult.”

They are silent for a minute. Raoul plays with the salt and pepper shakers, and Reyer sips some more of his coffee.

“Did he really say ‘parley.’”

Raoul nods.

“I don’t think he lives in the same universe as us humans.”

“You don’t trust him.”

“Not sure if I can. Something felt off.”

“You mean, aside from never seeing his face ever?”

“It’s more than that. I just get this vibe that says he’s,”

“Valmont.”

“Satan.”

“Demons are supposed to be tempting, so I always assumed they’d be pretty, and the angels were ugly, because faith logic.”

“His masks are a cheat.”

“They do add a sordid insidious sexiness to him. In fact, _everything_ about him is sexual. He’s always so damn touchy and flirtatious. Hell, he could just _stand_ there, and it’s like, wow you’re **_hot_**.”

“Yeah, they do make him **_extremely_** attractive which is weird and unfair.”

“Because of what you can’t see/don’t know.”

“Maybe he’s a cat person.”

“What?”

“His eyes are feline, so maybe he’s a new species of man-cat.”

“Right.”

“No. He’s like their **_god_** , cats, and he’s going to punish you for the time you killed your neighbor’s cat.”

“That was an _accident_.”

“Cat don’t care, cat be like, hiss, hiss, wrath, me-ouch.”

“Right, the god of cats.”

“That’s why he wears the masks, people would want to pet him all the time.”

“Makes sense.”

“Mystery solved!” Reyer slaps the table.

“Oddly feel better.”

“What I’m here for.”

“I told him I would give him my answer on where we go, today.”

“And?”

“So far we got, he cat god, want me punished.”

“Hiss, hiss, me-ouch.”

Raoul hangs his head.

“I’m no better off now than yesterday.”

“You know what would make you feel better?”

“Popping 198 balloons?”

“Popping 198 balloons!”

Reyer stands up and pulls Raoul along out the café.

\--

* * *

Reyer falls to his knees in misery. The toy shop is closed on Sundays and today is Sunday. He curses the moon and cats.

“We’ll come back Monday.” Raoul tries to pull Reyer to his feet, it’s difficult.

“Why!” Reyer shouts, he shakes his fists in a rueful manner.

“Come on, we’ll watch _Dangerous Liaisons_.” He keeps trying to pull and tug Reyer into a standing position.

“I really wanted this to happen!”

“Monday, come on, Meri. Valmont is waiting for you to watch his scandals.” Raoul finally manages to get Reyer to his feet.

\--

* * *

“Hey, if you did accept him to be your feller, does that mean he’ll be _around_? Because I wasn’t kidding when I said his shadow gives me panic. He haunts my nightmares sunk below the sea and beyond.”

Raoul hasn’t thought about it much, he did say he wanted the whole deal when it comes to an actual relationship.

“Maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“He has Meg, so he may not?”

“Ah, thank the gods, that may keep him away. Sweat wiped.”

Raoul hasn’t thought about what it would mean for her.

“What does she think of this? You would be like her stepish-parent.”

“I’m not allowed to talk to her about it. Her mother made it clear, Meg’s not supposed to know, and I don’t know how they kept something this weird and intense from her all these years.”

“The uncle? The friend?”

“I guess?”

“Uncle Raoul.” Reyer tests.

“I don’t like it.”

“No,” Reyer agrees,” doesn’t feel right against the teeth.”

“No idea on that.”

“If he does hang around us, I need assurance he won’t kill me.”

“I’ll think of something.”

Reyer gets up, sudden inspiration, he runs to his stereo and fiddles with something and then plays a song, _Maybe This Time_

 _“_ Come on, we’re doing this,” he motions for Raoul to get with it.

_“Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky, maybe this he’ll stay, come Raoul, get with it!”_

_“Maybe this time, love won’t hurry away, I don’t sing Meri,”_

_“Not a loser anymore like the last time, you will for this,”_

_“Everybody loves a winner, so nobody loved me, say that out loud and mean it,”_

Reyer and Raoul start a kind of awkward dance, Raoul mostly trying to fight the moment of this sudden duet, and Reyer because he’s trying to be Liza.

 _“Lady peaceful, lady happy that’s what I long to be_ ,” they both sing, both now starting to really get into their duet. Reyer jumps around the couch and gets with the increasing emotion of the singer, of the song, of the character, and starts moving, walking back and forth pacing, moving hands ruefully.

_“All the odds are, they’re in my favor!”_

_“Something’s bound to begin!”_ Raul pops up from the couch.

_“It’s gonna happen!”_

_“Happen sometime!”_

_“Maybe this time I’ll win!”_

_“Oh, everybody,”_ Reyer really gets his movement on now and Raoul watches, amused, and forgetting how awkward he feels.

“ _Everybody, they love a winner, so nobody loved me,”_ Reyer runs around the couch and around the room, like he’s teasing an invisible audience.

_“All the odds are, they’re in my favor. Something’s bound to begin! It’s gonna happen! Ha! Happen sometime! Maybe this time, I’ll win!_

Raoul claps.

“I’ve always wanted to do with someone and I’m glad it was you.”

“I never have an interest to do this, but I will for you.”

“I feel like the prettiest girl at the dance when you say things like that.”

Raoul snaps his fingers and does the gun.

“Whatever you decide I will support you, as long as it doesn’t impair my mental or physical health, any more than it already is.”

“Deal and thanks.”

“Can we do _For Good_?”

Raoul groans

“Neither of us have the vocal range required, and even Liza was a stretch.”

“We’ll lip sync, _please_?”

“Okay, but _this is the last one_ ,” Raoul says exasperated. Reyer squeals hyper happy and gets the music ready while Raoul shakes his head in annoyance.

_The things you do for your person._

_\--_

* * *

Raoul turns the light on and drops his jacket and goes into the kitchen, he opens fridge pulls out a drink, turns around and jumps.

“Hells bells!”

“It’s tomorrow.” Erik is leaning against the sink counter. This is the most subdued Raoul has ever seen him.

He’s wearing a tuxedo, because of course he is, and his mask is half white and black and full faced. He looks obnoxiously attractive and Raoul hates everything.

“I just need to recover from my heart attack. Most people wait to be invited in.”

“You were fine with it yesterday. Your answer?”

“Knock and wait to be invited in from now on, please. Really shouldn’t have to request that.”

“I’d really like to move beyond that now.”

“Fine.”

“Your stalling is reaching its end; can you answer the question now.”

“Are you here about the cat?”

He tilts his head to the side, Raoul hates that he looks adorable doing this.

“The cat?”

“There was this—ah not important.” Raoul leaves the kitchen, finding that the walls are closing in and his heart is growing agitated and he can hear its beating loudly inside his head.

Erik watches him and follows; Raoul tries to keep some distance.

“You know why I’m here. Why would I be here about cats.” Raoul moves behind the couch now.

“I don’t know,” Erik grabs him. Raoul stiffens and tries to move away, he cannot.

“What are you doing? I’m not going to strangle you.” Raoul wonders if he is capable of frowning or if any of this conversation will mean anything.

“Can’t be too sure,” he mutters.

“I wasn’t going to strangle you the last time either. You really don’t trust me?”

“You had your hands at my throat!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you-this. I’m not arguing over this! If I don’t feel _safe_ around you, how do you expect me to want to _be_ _with_ you!”

“I have no reason to want to hurt you.” He touches Raoul’s face, it’s comforting, but Raoul is trying to snap out of it.

“You’re unpredictable and kind of psychotic. What’s stopping you from going into a blind rage and killing me, if I, I don’t know, chew too loudly.”

“Don’t chew too loudly.” Raoul slaps his hand away, Erik grabs his hand instantly, but stops himself from _doing_ anything, just holds it.

“That was jest.” Sensing Raoul’s tension, he lets go of his hand.

“See, you were going to break my hand,” Raoul says and runs his hands through his hair, frustrated. Erik opens and closes his hands and shakes his head.

“You attacked me, so I responded, but I didn’t do anything, you’re welcome by the way.”

“ _Attacked_ you?” Raoul says incredulously.

“You **_struck_** at me, so **_I_** can’t **_defend_** myself, but _you_ can be violent towards **_me_**?”

“I-fine. That’s fair.” Raoul sighs miserably.

“If you are violent towards me, I will respond in kind, otherwise,” he shrugs.

“Yeah,” Raoul nods. He feels sick. This is not how he wanted to spend the later part of his evening.

“As previously stated, I have no ill will towards you. I will respond to your actions appropriately, if you strike me, I will defend myself. If you kiss me,” He reaches out to Raoul again, and Raoul doesn’t back away this time.

“So, there we are then.” Raoul whispers.

“Which means?”

“I need a minute.”

Erik lets his hand drop and Raoul paces again. He’s trying hard to clear his head.

“Trial period. One week, if I think you’re manipulating me or **_psychotic_** , I will walk away, and we remain as, I don’t know, O.G and Manager, on amicable terms.”

“You’d go back to calling me O.G?” Raoul swears he can hear the frown he’s making.

“It’s where we started, why not.” He shrugs.

“And after the week is over, and you approve?”

“Then, maybe we can have something more substantial.”

“Maybe?”

“Let’s just see the week through.”

“Does the week start now?”

Raoul shakes his head, and points to his door.

“It’s late, and I’m afraid I have other appointments to attend to, please see yourself out.”

“Appointments.” Erik repeats. Raoul points at the door, jabbing the air.

Erik strides forward and grabs a hold of Raoul, for a second Raoul thought he was going to kill him, but instead, he has a hand around his waist, and another behind his head, he kisses him through the mask, because of course he does, and then taps his cheek.

“Goodnight, Little Leto,” He steps back and then leaves as requested. As soon as Erik leaves. Raoul locks the door, and sighs and he leans back against it breathless.

\--

* * *

Reyer meets Raoul inside the lobby and drags him into the utility closet, he pulls the light string and stares at Raoul, unblinking.

“I-yes. You have your damn fantasy,” Reyer cheers silently, and walks around in a tight circle fist pumping triumphantly.

“I told him I would give it a week, if I didn’t like it, we’d go back to where we were before, Manager and O.G.”

“And if you liked things?” Reyer has pleading eyes. He really is having a dry run of it without his Jules being around.

“I said I’d see after the week,” he shrugs.

“So, I get to see some Valmont action in my life, with these eyes, at work?” Reyer is going dizzy with happiness.

“You are the **_weirdest_** friend I will ever have.” Raoul shakes his head, he can’t even with Reyer either. This will be one hell of a week.

“You’re welcome.”

Raoul hangs his head and sighs. He runs his hands through his hair and face.

“Hey, hey.” Reyer touches Raoul’s shoulder.

“It’s **_beyond_** my control.”

* * *

Raoul is desperate to spend as much time away from his office he’s actively seeking out others to stall for anything.

“I don’t have any complaints?” Christine says. Meg nods.

“We’re good, bro.” Thy give him a thumbs up.

“Are you? No costumes going missing? Blood appearing out of nowhere in the dressing room,”

“Uh, no? We’re good.” Christine does not remember there ever being blood just appearing.

“Blood? Like the _Shining_? Is that a thing? Has that happened?” Meg looks at both, and they shrug.

“I don’t know,” Raoul says. He runs his rand through his hair and face before he leaves to find someone else.

“That was weird,” he hears Christine say.

\--

* * *

“We’re good,” says the band leader. He and his people have no issues, their music never usually goes missing or have odd experiences.

“Right, keep it up.” Raoul is miserable. He is running out of people to talk to.

He does find himself somehow dragged into his office by an unseen force, and Erik has to grab his shoulders to steady him.

“Are you avoiding me?”

“No. I’m the manager of this theater, I have many matters to attend to, egos to check in on, mail, and things to look into.”

“You’re usually in your office as soon you arrive,” Erik says, Raoul can tell he’s not buying what he’s trying to sell. Raoul curses his lack of being able to lie.

“I got sidetracked, so here now. Heh. Hey. Mail.” He goes to his desk and sorts through the mail.

“I thought we could do something more saccharine as supplicated.”

Raoul is going to have to start carrying a thesaurus if this is Erik's natural way of speaking.

_If even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll learn new words. Think positive, Raoul._

“Yes. We could do that.” Raoul tries his best to not look or sound like he has no idea what he just said.

“Here.” Erik holds up a blank mask. Raoul is confused. He shakes his head, what does that mean, body language.

“You would uh, embellish this? “

“Huh?”

“It would be a mask you’d made for me?”

“Oh, I think I get it. But, what. You want me to decorate it?”

“That’s what I said.” Erik says, his voice not hiding his vexation.

Raoul takes it.

“And this would be, a bonding activity?”

Erik nods.

“I don’t have things to do that.”

“I do.” He points to the opened door aka the wall that’s now exposed. Raoul nods, he gets it. Rabbit wants Alice to step through the hole and go find madness.

“Right, this will be different.”

“I don’t need more glitter. _My_ Marguerite always implores a superfluous amount of glitter.”

Erik pauses in his walking, startling Raoul.

“She used to like feathers,” He says, he shakes his head free of memories and continues to walk.

“No glitter, maybe feathers, heard.” Raoul nods. After a few minutes they come to a wall, and Erik taps it in a strange pattern.

“It was _my_ little Marguerite’s idea, it’s **_cretinous_** , but it makes her smile every time,” He steps through the opening.

“It’s nice you consult her on things,” Raoul says, taking in everything he’s seeing, trying to properly process it this time, it was such a blur the first time he came here, he remembers almost nothing.

“Her opinions are not always warranted, but she’s niggling if she’s ignored for too long.”

_Note to self, get the new thesaurus and dictionary today._

“I like Meg.” Raoul’s not sure why, but he felt that needed to be said and heard. He looks around the stately manor that suddenly appeared from the tunnels and tomb.

“Do you?”

Raoul feels electric heat for a moment. His heart jumps up and his bones tingle. Erik is in threatening trance, but he recovers quickly. Raoul backs away slowly just in case, but Erik shakes it off. He leads Raoul to another room, there are several baubles and craft items are spread out on a canvas tarp on the floor. Erik presents it to Raoul.

“There, your workspace.”

Raoul has no idea what to do, he looks at this mask, and back to the things.

“So, this craft activity is your idea of—hm. Oh! You would **_wear_** it because I **_made_** it **_for_** you, like, I get it now.”

Erik taps his masks nose, and nods.

"I thought we covered that."

"I'm distracted today."

"Are you ill?" Erik tilts his head, taking Raoul in. Raoul shakes his head and sits down on the tarp and touches random items, not sure what he wants to use or do. He feels like a kid that's going to get mess with all the things. He's excited, he's an adult about to play with crafts like glitter, and he don't care. 

_Reyer would be on this._

"Does it have to be white?"

"There are paints and dyes,"

"Ah, so are we doing this together, or is it all me?"

"I watch and wear it when it's finished."

Erik sits down across from him and waits for Raoul to do something.

"So, I can do whatever I want?" Raoul looks over his options, so many choices. Erik nods. Raoul picks up a paint, it says, "Spring Mint," he puts it down. There is one that says, "Coral Gold," he likes that one and he picks up the mask, and finds a sponge.

"This is going to be the most fun I've had since I was five." He delicately dabs the paint on the mask.

"Since you were five?"

"I mean, adult fun not included, obviously." Raoul tugs the collar of his shirt. He takes his suit jacket off, rolls up his sleeves, he sees that he should have done this sooner, paint is on his jacket sleeve, and his arm already.

"That sounds better."

Raoul gets excited when he eyes the sequins and a pair of tweezers. He carefully places sequins into an intricate pattern, gears of a clock, and those curve downwards around the eye and cheek, stopping just shy of the lips, he does the same pattern on the other side of the face. Erik watches silently. 

He takes small colored stones, red, blue, pink and puts them in the space between the eyes above the nose. Raoul stops, leans backwards and then forward. He thinks for a moment. His hand pauses, he puts it down in lap, then he bites his finger, thinking.

"Hm."

He picks up the deep purple paint, a paint brush, that is fine, and he carefully paints the lips. He leans backwards again, forward, to the left, to the right. He loos around the tarp for more inspiration.

"I think I'm good."

"Leave it there then, it'll dry here."

"That was fun, I actually enjoyed that."

"De rien," Erik says.

"Meri's mother is French. He's very France proud, he often "calls," Germany from1940 and tells them to fuck off," Raoul laughs. Erik tilts his head, but instead of amusement or confusion, Raoul can sense annoyance. Raoul frowns.

"It's kind of funny,"

"If you like."

"He came to New York when he was in his 20s." Raoul's not sure why he said that and without a follow up for it to make sense. Erik says nothing.

"He speaks French," Raoul says slowly, hoping that might intrigue. 

"C'est gentil."

"He's my person."

"Your **_what_**?"

"My platonic soulmate, love of my life, non romantically of course, best friend, favorite person."

"Why are you telling me this."

"He's the most important relationship I have that's not my big brother, and if you want to uh, bond with me on a more, non-platonic level, it would be good to have a friendship with Meri."

Erik says nothing.

"You'd win **_points_ **with me if you and Meri bonded and have a real friendship. Like **_a lot_** of points." Raoul half glares at Erik.

"Duly noted."

* * *

Reyer jumped out of his skin when he found Erik waiting for him in his living room. He often forgets that he has a key, since he gave Jules their penthouse, Jules managed Erik when he had his own architect firm before he got bored with it.

He also tries to forget that they were/are _close_. Jules is still half in love with him, which is totally fine, because they ended their relationship six or so years ago and that’s when Meri Reyer stepped into the picture, and they both moved on.

“I didn’t do it!” Reyer shouts, he tries to find a place to hide, he is out of luck. He’s trembling and he can feel his heart attack coming on.

“I’m not here to kill you,” Erik says, he is not paying attention to Reyer, this calms Reyer a little. He stops his dance of death and tries to breathe evenly.

“Jules is in South Africa for a few more weeks,”

“I know, and that’s not why I’m here either.”

“You need help to bury a body again? Raoul said I didn’t have to do that anymore. That you promised you—”

“Cease your incessant prattle, or I will slap you,” Erik finally looks in Reyer’s direction. Reyer puts both hands over his mouth and nods.

“I’m here for,” Erik pauses, he has to force he words to come from his mouth, as if it is painful and he is suffering agony, “camaraderie”

“What?” Reyer covers his mouth again, his face blanches, and he waits for punishment.

“Camaraderie. A fellowship. I was told that you would be good for it.”

Reyer is very confused.

“You are allowed to speak,”

“You want to be my friend?”

Erik nods, even that looks like it caused him pain. Reyer is glad Erik wears those masks because he doesn’t think he could take seeing the full face that owns the eyes, that are piecing into his soul angrily.

“Did Jules say something? Because I’m totally cool about your past.”

“No, you’re not and no.”

Reyer wants to hide behind the sofa, but Erik is _on_ the sofa.

“ _Your person_ ,” Erik says in Raoul’s voice, and he means for it to sound teasing, but it still comes across threatening. Reyer forgot he could do that.

“Raoul? He wants us to be friends? Wh-why he would want that? You don’t have to be my friend, you can go home, be with your cat subjects, they probably miss their god,”

“I’m going to ignore the last part of that tirade. He wants us to be friends. It works in my favor, so I am here.” Erik gestures to the world around him.

“Oh. I don’t know how to respond to any of this.”

“You have a guest in your home, what do you do?”

Reyer considers this, sudden inspiration.

“Would you like a hot or cold beverage?”

“No. I like cinema. Do you have films?”

Reyer nods, he goes to a cabinet and opens it, to show the collection. He gestures proud like.

“I have comedy, drama, horror, and different kinds of horror sub-genres, I really like body horror and I don’t know why. Jules hates it. He threw up during _Videodrome_.”

“As long as it’s not about fucking clowns in space, I don’t have a preference, pick something, I’ll watch.”

Reyer frowns, he loves that movie too. He pulls something out.

“ _Chicago._ Gotta love that Fosse.”

“That will suffice.”

“So, we’ll bond over a movie, this is going to be very fun for me.”

Reyer sets up the movie.

"Popcorn?"

"Be silent and watch the film."

Reyer puts his hands over his mouth again, nods and tries to enjoy the film.

* * *

When the film is over, Reyer doesn’t know what to do or so. He felt like he was half dying the entire film, his heart sped up, he couldn’t keep his feet still and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from ripping out his hair.

He looks over to Erik, he is looking at the TV, or Reyer assumes he is staring ahead at the TV. He could be asleep. He almost wants to wave his hands in front of his face, but he’s also convinced Erik may eat his hand.

“Is there something else you would like to do?” Reyer asks once he finds his voice and confidence to use it.

“Do you have alcohol?”

Reyer nods.

“I have gin, vodka, wine, beer,”

“Wine.”

Reyer stands up, he goes to the mini bar, he pulls out the first wine bottle he can see, finds a glass, when he turns, he almost drops the class.

“You need to wear bells!”

Erik takes the wine and ignores Reyer.

“Your mother is French.”

Reyer nods.

“She is. From Burgundy, I think, or thereabouts.”

“Normandy.”

“No, _Burgundy_.”

“ ** _I’m_** from Normandy. Specifically, a small village not worth mentioning.”

“Oh! Is it nice around there?”

“It would be better without the people.”

“Did you leave because of the people?”

“I’m not going to discuss that with you.”

Reyer pours himself some vodka, takes the shot, more vodka, and another. He shakes his head.

“Do you read comics? Raoul does.”

“No.”

“Do you like modern music, erm, like popular music, you’d hear on the radio?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“38.”

“Are you a cat?”

Erik slaps him. He doesn’t hit him hard, and it’s meant to be more of a smack, a warning, that he’s annoying and treading on thin patience. Reyer cowers. Erik sighs. 

“I didn’t hit you that hard. Why are you two obsessed with cats?”

“We have a theory.”

“And?”

“That’s it. We just have a theory.”

“That involves cats.”

“Yes.”

“The theory is?”

“Not that interesting, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“You are the ones who keep approaching me with topics related to the damn animal.”

“Your eyes."

"You think I'm a cat because of my eyes."

Reyer shrugs.

"Can you see in the dark?"

"Yes."

"Do your eyes **_glow_**?"

"They do."

Reyer gets excited.

"How well in the dark can you see?"

"No difference to me."

"So, if I turn the lights off, it's like they never were off?"

"Sure."

"Did you ever play manhunt? You'd be like the champion or sought out to be on all the teams."

"I play versions of that for my own amusements."

"Manhunt is just hide and seek and capture the flag, in the dark."

"Yes."

"I'm going to go with your game is more sinister and insidious than mine."

Erik drinks his wine.

"Lord Chauncey is missing."

"I don't know who that is."

"He's the **_pedophile_** that wanted **_Meg_ **to dance for him."

"You said he is missing."

"So, you **_did_ **kill him! I **_knew_ **it!" He jumps up and does the, hah! Point. Erik grabs his hand and twists it, he doesn't break it, but it does hurt, message received.

"I don't know who that is." He lets go of his hand.

"Understood." Reyer holds his hand.

"Don't asks questions you know I'll respond violently to."

"Fair enough, should have known better."

Erik holds his empty glass out to Reyer, he refills it, and hands it back.

"How many languages can you speak fluently?"

" ** _Perfect_ **fluency is ten. I can **_understand_** at a moderate level? Fifteen."

"Stupidest book you've ever read?"

" _House of leaves,_ I understand the pun, not clever and uninspired. It's trite and pedantic. _My_ Marguerite told me to read it, she thought I would enjoy the mad spatial aspects. I did not."

"I hated _Heart of darkness._ Conrad takes too long to get to the point."

"Classic, forced to read in school, but forgettable. There are more powerful books about the same subject, that _are_ written better."

"I know. I've read some of them."

"Beautiful."

"So, you like women."

"Yes."

"You like men."

"Yes."

"Did that ever confuse you or cause conflict?"

"No."

"Well, aren't we just a perfect example of happiness."

"How."

"I mean, I assume a lot of people would be confused, if they liked both, and I can imagine that's caused some kind of conflict."

"Don't assume things about me or other people."

"I was confused."

"I'm not you."

"My great aunt locked me in the closet and tried to purge the gay out of me. I was starved for three days, until my brother broke the door down. The neighbor started to get suspicious about how we were treated, so that punishment stopped, but she still was awful."

"Were you ashamed afterwards? Hide your sexuality?"

"No. My siblings didn't care, just my great aunt. I felt no reason to hide or feel any shame, I just didn't understand why she hated me for it. No one's treated me differently a part from my great aunt. Not to my face anyway, and the ones who do, don't matter, they're not in my universe."

"My mother was abusive, but she's also a stupid spoiled bitch, who couldn't even tutor me after the age of **_four_**. Our dog Sasha was a better mother. I should have killed the stupid priest. One of my regrets."

"Uh, why did you want to kill the priest?"

"Said Sasha wasn't going to be in my Heaven. She had no soul, so I would never see her again, including the Afterlife."

"How old were you when he said this?"

"Five? Eight? Something like that."

"He could have just let you believe."

"He's Catholic. They want you to **_suffer_ **their truth."

"I've met decent Catholics."

"Bully for you."

Erik looks at his wrist, he's wearing a fancy expensive watch. Reyer is jealous.

"I have to go. I left Marguerite home alone."

"She's like sixteen, she can live without you. This is when you don't have to parent. You can stay out longer, she's not **_six_**."

The wine glass explores in Erik's hand, pieces of glass are lodged into his hand. Reyer jumped backwards, he's able to avoid getting glass in his eye and otherwise.

"Holy Christmas!"

"Ah."

Erik takes bits of glass out of his gloved hand. 

"We'll do this again tomorrow."

"Oh, yay? Looking forward to spending time with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who I base Reyer and Raoul on basically, or at least influenced by. God I love these two so much, and the showhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IegtAtqv6D8  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHuIgxB-tCw  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Uk5-ksi0Wk  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcEOPu581uw  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMfoE49TCsU  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkvo3D3vX9k


	20. Darkest Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meri has a terrible dinner date, Raoul think's his love life is making progress, loose ends become ends.

* * *

“I had the weirdest dream ever,” Reyer says, as he and Raoul walk to the Opera.

“Did you have the dream where the toaster tries to eat you, and you turn into that weird frog duck?”

“No! I wish that’s what happened, freaking **_Erik_** shows up to my penthouse!”

Reyer stops

“Oh, wait that wasn’t a dream, that **_happened_** ,” he grabs Raoul and shakes him.

“Erik came to my penthouse!”

“And yet you still live, so it couldn’t have been that bad.” He frees himself.

“Said you wanted us to be friends. I believe I said, I wanted _assurance_ he won’t _kill_ me, not that I want to spend time with my waking nightmare!”

“This is _a_ way he won’t kill you. I said you were my person and were the most important person to me outside my brother. I did you a favor.”

“How is this a favor? He wants access to me now! I’m freaking out! He **_slapped_** me!”

“Why?”

“I asked if he was cat, and I don’t feel that warranted being slapped, but still, may not have been the question to ask, but still my greatest nightmare slapped me.”

“You asked if he was a cat? What? Why?”

“I don’t know! I was on a roll with questions, once I’m on a roll I just keep it flowing, I can’t trust my mouth brain coordination!”

“You really asked if he was man cat god.”

“Yes!”

“Did he, hiss, hiss, me-ouch?”

“He slapped me-ouch.”

“Hm. Could have been worse.”

“How?”

“Could have asked him about being a ghost.”

“Too easy.”

“He also owes me a wine glass.”

“Break it?”

“It didn’t break, it fucking **_exploded_**.”

“Holy Christmas.”

“Yeah!”

“Was that when you asked if he was cat?”

“No, I don’t remember, but my glass is dead, and I demand, ugh I’m so angry, I cannot even remember the fancy word I’m looking for!"

“I have no idea.” Raoul shakes his head.

“Ugh, I demand, I demand, something, curse you, fancy word that is illusive.”

“You remember,” illusive,” though.” Raoul shakes his head.

“I am going to **_die_**! My heart is beating out of my chest, I can **_feel_** my blood in my vein, I haven’t had you clean out my internet history. I wasn’t going to buy children on the black market, I just was curious how much they cost! How much is a person worth! I was going for a tragic metaphor.”

“I’m sure the FBI will see it that way, considering your education, and occupation.”

“Everything sucks! I‘m going to **_die_** , I haven’t had sex in four months!” Reyer stops walking and falls onto the pavement. Raoul rushes to his side,

“If you’re fake dying like Lumpy Space Princess, I will **_never_** duet with you again and that includes your wedding.”

Reyer sits up,

“That’s really mean.”

He dusts himself off and suddenly,

“Recompense!”

Raoul claps his hands, and whistles sarcastically.

“So proud, you remember a word that’s unnecessary.”

“I just want people to know I know it.”

“I know and that’s why you’re That Guy.”

Raoul walks ahead of him and Reyer catches up.

“You owe me an apology.”

“For?”

“Sending Erik to my penthouse! And breaking my shit!”

“I have no control over what comes out of your mouth, and he is the one you should talk to about your recompense, also I still need to buy that damn thesaurus.”

“Why do you need to buy a thesaurus?”

“You and Erik use the most unnecessary words possible and are exactly That Guy.”

“Most words that come from my mouth are natural, I have no need to impress you anymore, you’re locked in. We’re married at this point.”

“You’re the person life chose for me, it’s great. Love it.” Raoul says dryly.

“You can’t take it back!”

“I’m not, but you are ** _a lot.”_**

“ ** _I’m a_** lot? **_I’m_** a lot?”

Raoul just shakes his head and jabs his hands at him.

“How am I the one the that’s a lot?”

“This entire experience.”

“I have emotions!”

“I **_know_**.”

“Don’t emotion shame me.”

“I’m **_not_** , but you really need to see your therapist more times a week. Your medicine isn’t enough, and I can only do so much.”

“Grr. Fine.”

Raoul sighs, trying get his zen.

“Wait, you think I have more emotions than **_Erik_**?”

“So far, I would say, yes. You have an emotional breakdown every ten minutes. I’m starting to really worry about that, you were doing so well.”

“I think it’s the wedding planning, and that fact you sent Erik to my home! My haven!”

“I didn’t send him anywhere; he chose to come to you.”

“Well, can you warn me next time?”

“How can I warn you about something I don’t know about? When I left the Opera, I went home.”

“Well, ugh. Fine, but I don’t understand, why do you want us to be friends?”

“It’ll make my life easier.”

“Is it difficult?”

“If everyone in my life gets along, I have less stress, and if I have less stress, I can save you, when you need it.”

“When you put it that way,”

They finally arrive at the Opera Populaire and it’s already on.

“Raoul de Chagny? Can we ask you a few questions?”

Turns out that Lord Chauncey has been missing for a week or two and his family hired private detectives after they reported him missing.

“Is there a way we can contact this Meg Giry? According to the phone records, she is the last person he may have had contact with,”

“Meg?”

“Meg’s sixteen, she had no business being in the same room as him, he fucked a 12-year-old, you know,” Reyer is shaking.

“Yes, we know, the more we learn, the less we like the guy, but the family wants closure.”

“Uh, I can ask her father if Meg knows anything,” Raoul says,

“Great, we’ll leave our card and we’ll be in touch.” The two detectives leave.

“So that’s a thing now, what happened to him anyway?” Raoul looks through the mail that he is collected.

“Is that a serious question?” Reyer is about to bite his nails.

“He did sort of just, poof,” Raoul looks for his checkbook, bills are due.

“Raoul, **_think_** about it.” Reyer narrows his eyes.

“Okay,” Raoul signs a check, and gets ready for the next one.

“Did you think about it?”

“Can you ask Winnie if she got the fabrics she needed? Some apparently arrived at different times, and I need to know if they all came.”

“Sure, fine.” Reyer leaves the office.

Raoul closes his eyes and massages his temples. He opens his eyes, and he moves the chair backwards.

“Got to stop doing that! Apparating like you’re a wizard,”

“Your friend is irksome. Is he truly important to you?” Raoul is distracted by the fact that Erik is wearing the mask he decorated yesterday and can’t take his eyes off of it.

“Hm? Sorry, you said something?”

“Spending time with Meri is akin to rolling around in a nettle patch.”

“He said you slapped him.”

“He’s lucky that’s all I did, and I held great restraint when I did strike him. He’s fortunate that I can control my strength.”

Warning bells are sounding off in the distance, like the siren, cleaning her throat, preparing for the next number. Raoul shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, he told me he asked if you were a cat.”

“He did.”

Raoul is still lost in that mask, Erik leans forward,

“You know, I am not actually a feline creature,"

“Hm? You’re not? Oh, right, of course.”

“We’ve been intimate several times, and you thought? What is wrong with the both of you.” The space around Erik turns warm, he is getting annoyed.

“The eyes, the mask, it’s like hiding your face, so no one pets you,”

“I don’t have a cat face.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I’m not taking my face off, to show you that I’m not a cat. Don’t be absurd, you’re not usually this soft in the head, what’s wrong with you today?”

“I don’t know, lack of coffee. Sleep? Could not sleep last night, I’m allergic to the pillows and the bedding in the guest room."

“Stay with me, like I offered earlier."

“But I want to sleep.”

“I will take you home, put you to bed, and that will be it, until you are refreshed and awake."

“I have to do so much here,” Raoul yawns, he is losing.

“You need sleep, and your intelligence is fleeting.”

Raoul would have responded to that, but he cannot keep his eyes open and he’s trying to keep his head up, he keeps jilting awake, and just on the cusp of slumber.

“I’m taking you home.”

Erik does not wait for a response, he gathers Raoul in his arms, throws him over his shoulder and walks through the exposed wall.

True to his word, he carefully tucks Raoul into bed, he leans over and kisses the top of his through his mask

“Sweet dreams, Leto.”

\--

* * *

Reyer returns to the office in hopes of spending a quite thirty with his friend while his nerves settle. He enters, sits down and quickly realizes something is vastly different.

“Meri.”

Erik is behind the desk. Reye’s panic sets in. Raoul’s things are still in the office, his jacket, his bag he carries with him.

“Where is Raoul?”

Erik tilts his head to the side, and the other before he leans forward.

“ _I ate him.”_

Erik remains still. Reyer can feel that Erik’s stare piercing into him. Reyer squeaks.

“You, what?”

“If you don’t believe me, stick around for another thirty minutes, that’s usually how long it takes for digestion and the bones **_never_** settle well,”

Erik leans back in the chair, and watches Reyer.

Reyer has no idea what is happening or what to think. His heart is screaming inside his head, he feels flushed and death is coming.

“Two detectives came by, they want to speak to my Marguerite, they were told that they could have access to her, why would they think that?”

Reyer can see that Erik is playing with a penknife, which is not a good sign, since he is damn sure that Erik could end him ten ways in under five seconds with it.

“Her phone number is in his call history.”

“And?”

“They think she would know something since she is the last person, they suspect he spoke to before, whatever happened to him.”

“I told Nettles calling her was injudicious.”

“So, he is definitely dead?”

“His phone is in my car. If you want to win favor with me, you will do everything I tell you, precisely as I say it, or we will have conflict.”

Reyer nods.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Bring me his phone and wallet."

Reyer stands and leaves the office, before he circles back

“I don’t know where or what car you drive.”

\--

* * *

Reyer is given the keys to one of, yes, he said one of his many cars. Which is great, a ‘ghost,’ has more money than him.

_Unless he stole of all these._

So Reyer, went to the location of the lot where Erik keeps all of the many fancy cars he owns. Finds the one he was described and gets to work of finding the phone and wallet.

“We will have conflict he says, Raoul you said you’d keep him from killing me and now you’re gone and he’s going to kill me, I can feel it!”

Reyer grabs the phone and heads back to the Opera.

Reyer places the phone and wallet on the desk, Erik takes both. He slides a credit card from the wallet and a piece of paper.

“Purchase these items with the card, do not return here until you have purchased all items on the list,”

Reyer does not need to be told twice he gets out of the office fast.

He looks over the list:

_Antacid_

_Heating pad_

_Saltine crackers_

_Milk_

_Ginger_

_Ginger ale_

“Oh my god, what if he really ate him!?” Reyer bites his nails before forcing him to get to work.

It doesn’t take long for Reyer to purchase all items, while trying to imagine what horrible fate had befallen his best friend.

Did he say something? Or was Erik always going to kill him, and where does that leave Reyer? He wanted to stall, but what if that just made his death all that worse?

Reyer hands the bag of items to Erik, he takes them.

“Thank you, that is all, we’re done here.”

Reyer hesitates, but he leaves, he takes a one last look at the room, and thinks of his friend fondly.

As soon as Reyer leaves, Erik dumps the bag of items in the small trashcan by the desk

* * *

Feeling rather smug with his mischief, Erik returns to his home, specifically Raoul, who is just waking up as he enters.

“Leto,” Erik says as he settles in bed next to him. Raoul yawns and stretches. He does feel much better, now that he was able to sleep a bit.

“Anything happen?”

“Yes, you died.” Erik props himself on his side, Raoul is somewhat amused.

“How I’d die?”

“I ate you.”

“Did you? Oh, because we called you a cat?”

Erik traces the outline of Raoul’s face with his fingers.

“Reyer was particularly disquieted about it. He was fun to play with. He’s too easy though, have to let him go sometimes.”

“I would appreciate that.” Raoul smiles.

“Did your nap help?”

Raoul turns over onto his back.

“Yeah, feel a lot better. I need to do something about that guest room. I do not know why I kept that bed and bedding. I break out in hives and I can’t sleep, hence, you know.” He nods at his current situation.

“You should have just stayed with me from the start.”

“I was being coy.”

“And it gave you hives.”

“Lesson learned.”

“Will you stay here now?"

“I may be persuaded to do such a thing.”

“Persuaded?”

Erik moves closer, he runs his fingertips gently along Raoul’s jawline

“Yeah, breakfast, laundry services,”

“You can do your own damn laundry, Leto.”

“That’s another thing, you only refer to me as, “Leto,”

“So?”

“My name is Raoul,”

“Raoul is the manager who I played with and tortured for amusement. Leto is my lover, that I play with and torture for my amusement.”

“There’s no difference in that explanation.”

“Raoul is single.”

“Right, okay. I can see that I’m going to lose this one, logic is not a factor.”

“You’re really unsettled by, ‘Leto,’?”

“It’s just when we are, uh, intimate and when you, are in certain **_heightened_** states and invoke the name Leto, it does make me wonder, who you are really thinking about.”

“You,” Erik says simply, and annoyed.

“Fine. I will try to get used to that. I’m Leto, that’s me.”

Erik leans over, and kisses his nose, through the mask, Raoul is trying to get used this.

“Want to play twenty questions,”

“I’d rather not, but I will answer.”

“You’re from France, but where exactly? You never told me."

“Normandy.”

“When did you meet Antoinette?”

“Seventeen.”

“Married?”

“Eighteen, three months before nineteen.”

“You love her?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you separated?”

“I rather not get into that. You may ask again later.”

“Did you want more than one child?”

“We do have more than one, Marguerite is who we have now.”

“How many children do you have?”

“Complicated, one.”

“You said you—”

Erik presses two fingers against Raoul’s lips.

“One.”

“Your compositions are brilliant, why do you refuse to put them out into the world?”

“Working on that, found someone to use to get what I need.”

“A partner?”

“A mask, a different type of mask.”

“Oh.”

“You’re English.”

“Yeah, my family moved to Brooklyn when I was 12. They went back after I went to university.”

“You have a brother.”

“Phillippe. He’s everything to me, I haven’t heard from him for awhile though, but he’s always chasing some girl, so probably hard to send letters.”

“Why do you put up with Meri?”

“He stayed when I told him my crazy.”

“What crazy?”

“I joined a cult to be loved.”

“Ah. I see that did not last. Escape?”

“Didn’t make it to the final vows.”

“Good.”

“Parents?”

“My mother and father are dead.”

“My grandfather was abusive and sometimes in my dreams and just when I am alone at night, I can hear him, and that leads to intense panic attacks. Last one, I was in the mental ward for ten days.”

“My mother was abusive in many aspects. She died before I could return the favor.”

“Meri says you were in a relationship with Jules?”

“Seven years.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t want to talk about that, not yet.”

“Would you go back to France?”

“I’ve been back. It’s not right yet to move back.”

“How many languages do you speak and understand?”

“Fluent in ten, understand 15.”

“Why do you like to hurt and torture others?”

“I consider it another form of social engagement.”

“Was it always like that?”

“Yes. My mother’s only friend feared spiders, so I naturally would place spiders on her dress. She would scream and make other **_delicious_ **sounds. Knowing that I was the cause of her theatre was **_pleasurable_** , so I sought other ways to find that.”

“So, you’re not afraid of spiders, I take it."

“I wish I were spider; they are elegant in everything. The web spinners are my favorite. Their intricate designs can be breathtaking. I used to try to mimic their web and the results with thin pieces of thread, around the house. Ended being more of bizarre haunting and puppetry.”

“And you are **_master_** at that ventriloquist stuff.”

“If it involves the **_voice_** , I will be a virtuoso and beyond.”

“Why aren’t you Carlotta’s vocal coach.”

“Because I would literally have killed her within the first five minutes.”

“Her tutor says she is improving. She will be able to audition next season.”

“Why won’t you let me handle her?”

“Because you go straight for torture before kill, which makes you more of a cat, than a spider.”

“I’m both.”

“Do you think we could last?”

“Yes, but nothing is definite which is the point of life.”

“You talk a lot about murder and killing people, but is that actuate?”

“I learned at a young age murder is another form of art.”

“Is that jest?”

“No.”

“So, murder is just another way to express yourself artistically?”

“Yes.”

Raoul is not sure how to take this information.

“Sometimes, people just deserve to die.” Erik adds

“I see.”

“You want honesty, correct?”

“Yes, please keep with that.”

“You’re judging.”

“I’ll put away the judgeridoo.”

“This is why I didn’t want questions.”

“Some of the questions were harmless, like, “what did that mean,”

“Yeah, I suppose I did go to draconian levels at moments.”

“More than just moments. I was pretty much afraid of you at the end.”

“I don’t want you to fear me, intimidate yes, not fear.”

“That can lead to fear and other negative emotions, and you said you liked me. Hence, confusion.”

“I’m more advanced than you.”

“In age.”

Erik grabs Raoul’s chin and squeeze it just a bit.

“That was clever droll.”

“Erik is sensitive about age, noted.”

“Good.”

He releases Raoul, who rubs his face.

“Since we’re in bed, did you want to,”

“No, I don’t feel enough emotional stuff yet.”

“No?”

“This is great right now, but I still want to feel like I **_know_** you. I still feel like we’re in separate rooms, even when standing together.”

“I’m trying. What more do you need of me?”

“Just spending time together like this, talking, getting to know personalities and quirks.”

“I’m wearing the mask you decorated.”

“Which is a positive and that made me feel good, like I mattered, but I am thinking more like, sharing an experience. You take me to something you love, and I do the same with you, and that kind of relationship building.”

“I see, I think I understand now.”

“And spending time and trying with Meri was nice, I appreciated that. I felt like you cared.”

“I do. I rather not spend too much more time with him after this week.”

“Only on day two.”

“How’d you meet Jules?”

“He worked for me.”

“You had a job?”

“I’m an architect. He was my representative and main liaison between clients.”

“Do you do that now?”

“No, grew tired of it. My grandfather was an architect and my father was a mason, and I’ve done both, I like both, but more as a hobby. Music is the love of my life.”

“I feel like you would be very involved with the construction.”

“I usually stayed on the job site until it was finished.”

“I can definitely see you doing that, intimidating and killing when people screw up.”

“Yes.”

“Were you trained or go to university?”

“I became too advanced for typical schooling so when I turned five or six, mother had me tutored by a university professor for architecture, I graduated when I eight, it was the summer before Sasha died, I remember that much.”

“You went to university when you were six? That’s advanced.”

“I graduated early too. My lessons were private, so I did not actually attend the school.”

“Because of your age?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Erik moves on top of Raoul, who tries to push him away, he is not successful.

“I don’t want to have sex right now, Erik,”

“We’re not.”

He adjusts hold his hold and wraps himself around Raoul.

“I just figured if we were bed together, we could be together, even if not sexual.”

“Oh, that’s, this is fine.”

“ ** _Holding_** each other, that’s **_sentiment_** , Leto.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t like Meri or his influence over you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s emotionally unstable, you absorb that.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, fine, Erik is seeing things,”

“It didn’t help that you screwed with his head today. He would have been fine, otherwise.”

“Doubtful.”

“You just don’t know him. Spend more time with him, he’s likeable. He is fun, he loves to be a part of duets, you love music, you could bond over that. He has a master’s in music education and plays the mandolin.”

“I’ll try again, but he’s tiresome and I cannot be held responsible if I end up killing him.”

“Let’s try to avoid that though, murder as the last possible option.”

“You ask so much of me.”

* * *

Reyer pokes his head out of the kitchen window, he exhales and plays with his ciggy, before he brings his head back inside, he flicks the cig into the sink.

“You told Jules you quit,” Erik voice is threatening with two shots of teasing. Reyer squeaks.

“You’re back!”

“I said I’d come back yesterday.” He walks around the kitchen, he picks up a random box of pasta, inspects it, then puts it back down.

“You’re going to eat this?”

“I’m an adult, I can eat whatever I want.”

“If you want pasta, get real pasta.” Erik picks up the box again.

“I like that stuff, why I bought it,” he tries to reach for it, but Erik is taller than god.

“This is an insult to my senses,” Erik throws it out the kitchen window.

“Erik, you freak! That’s money!” Reyer covers his mouth with both hands, after hearing himself.

Erik is still at first, but then he slowly turns, and the whole never being able to see his face has never been terrifying. His mask, adds to his danger, and Erik moves into Reyer’s personal space, lowers his head so they are level.

 _“Are you hungry?”_ His voice exudes sex and he traces Reyer’s lips with his fingertips and then moves to his throat and moves his to his chest.

“I, uh, um. Yes.” Reyer is a gurgling fool. Erik straightens up, put his arm around Reyer.

“Let’s have our first date.”

“Our, what?”

“Don’t ask questions,” Erik says, he pokes Reyer's nose roughly.

“Eeep. Okay, sorry.”

“Good boy.” He squeezes his nose.

“Wait, you told Raoul, you weren’t going to do the dominating alpha apex predator bullshit anymore,” again Reyer covers his mouth with his hands after hearing himself.

Erik chuckles or the close as he can come to a chuckle and pulls Reyer closer.

“I promised **_him,_** I wouldn’t do that to **_him_ **or base our relationship around that role. For **_him_** , I am altering my behaviors. I never promised I would not keep true to myself around everyone else. Like you, for example, darling.”

Then comes the cold laughter and realization, that Raoul is not here, and Reyer has no one to save him from the dragon.

“Pasta tonight, sweetie?”

“Pasta is good,” Reyer says miserably. 

“This is going to be _fun_ ,” Erik rubs his mask face against Reyer and his terror,” think of all the _fun_ we’re going to have.”

Erik gently moves Reyer head into an agreeing movement, up, and down.

“Yes,” he says, catching the hint.

“Now you stay here, and be a good little Meri, while I go out and get some groceries,” He kisses his cheek with his masked lips.

Reyer nods, he goes over to his mini bar and prepares himself all the vodka.

“I won’t be gone too long,”

Reyer nods, and like that Erik is gone, and Reyer feels like he’s trapped inside his haven.

_He still has a thing for Jules, and Raoul said I was his favorite person, so surely that would be enough to keep me from murder, right?_

Reyer goes over to the sofa, turns on the television. The news, what’s ending the world today:

“ _The bodies of four teenagers were found in the woods outside,”_

Reyer changes the channel, different news station, maybe something happy:

“ _One of the victim’s has been identified as Rodney Shertin, he was a senior at PS117, the memorial will be held,”_

Reyer turns the television off.

“That helped nothing.”

He rubs his face, pulls at his hair. He tries to practice breathing. He’s alone, he could leave, he could leave, he’s not bound, he’s free to move. He looks over to the door, and his heart fills with panic and terror.

_He will find me, he’ll punish me._

Reyer jumps up and goes to the stereo and he puts some music on. He tries to let this cleanse his soul. He wants to be calm.

Erik is true to his promise and returns not too long after he left, he returns with fresh tomatoes, onions, pasta noodles, and several other bits of ingredients.

“You’re making dinner,” Reyer wonders where the poison is.

“No, I’m going to force these objects inside you for my amusement.” He finds a knife that is much larger than he needs for his purposes and sets off to work.

“Were you formally trained to cook?” Reyer asks, he walks into the kitchen, but is keeping his distance.

Erik turns around and flings something at him with the knife, it hits Reyer in the eyes, onion bits.

Reyer runs to the sink.

“What is so difficult about not asking questions?” Erik sighs and tends to his prep work.

Once Reyer’s eyes are cleaned out he finds a towel and damps his eyes.

“Taste test,” Erik holds on the tip of the knife towards Reyer, it has some bit of thick red sauce on it, Reyer looks at Erik, he nods and moves the knife closer to his face.

“I don’t use poison,” his voice sweet like saccharine and smooth caramel jazz.

Reyer seeing no other way out of the situation, opens his mouth, parts his lips slightly and Erik tilts it, so he can have better access.

“Well?”

“Nice.”

“ _Nice_.”

Erik gets back to it.

“You could help by setting the table, act like you weren’t raised as troglodyte.”

Reyer clears the dinning table and goes to the china cabinet, and beings to set the table with two settings, he knows he has a vase with flowers, because of course they do. Jules loves that shit.

After a few minutes of frantic searching, flower in vase found, he uses it as a centerpiece.

“That’s lovely.”

“Thanks,” Reyer does the dance of avoidance, he is becoming quite proficient at it as the night goes on.

Reyer helps Erik put out the food out on the set table, once that’s that is done Erik brings out two wine glasses and wine. Reyer is trying keep breathing steady.

_When he said our first date_

“Well,” Erik gestures for him to take his seat, and hands him a filled glass of wine.

_This is not cheating because I don’t want this._

Reyer takes the glass and sits down. He does not want to eat or drink. He doesn’t want to be here. Nothing is keeping shackled to the table, he knows where the door is, he has a phone in his pocket, he knows shortcuts to Raoul’s to the police, and yet he cannot move.

“There’s no salad fork.” Reyer is not sure why that came from his lips, but he could not help himself, and he felt like he left his body, watching as a ghost, what took place.

Erik pauses, he is frozen in time. Reyer can see himself run to the door, down the steps and into freedom. He can himself talking to a police officer.

_“He made you dinner, and you want him arrested because he made you feel uncomfortable? That’s not a crime, get out!”_

Time resets itself and come back to life. Erik makes a strange sound, is it laughter? Reyer does not know, he looks at his plate, then the rest of the table.

Erik lifts his wine glass, and indicates for Reyer to do the same, he does, he tries to keep his hand steady, his mantra isn’t working.

_I am at the bar with Raoul and he just told me about the cat he accidentally killed. He tried to help his neighbor and there is so much blood, it sticks and stains everything._

“What should our toast be, honey muffin?”

Reyer makes a face, he does not like the sound or taste of that epithet.

“Friendship?” Reyer suggests.

“Is that a question or statement?”

“Statement.” He says, over pronouncing the word.

“Friendship,” he says, in voice that says I love you and will kill you.

Reyer looks at the food once more and has no intent to eat. He watches Erik, he does not touch the food either, instead he’s watching Reyer.

“It’s not concept art or a project. You are meant to eat the food. Is this how you treat Jules? He comes home from a hard day, takes the effort to make you a nice dinner, and you refuse?”

Reyer does not know how to respond to that at first. He hesitates.

“I would eat whatever he made me.”

“I followed **_his_** recipe. Can’t you tell?”

Reyer leans into the food slightly, and the scent is familiar.

“I prepared you a nice meal, something I knew Jules has made for you in the past and you don’t even say thank you, you just glare are cold the entire evening. I even bought you your favorite wine.”

“I-I’m sorry. This is lovely. I thought,” Reyer tries to think but his mind is becoming numb and dull,” I thought, I thought this was something else. I didn’t think was genuine.”

“I don’t understand. You thought I went to all this effort for what? To mess with your mind? Why would I do that?”

Reyer does not know how to answer this, he's confused, he grabs his head trying to think straight.

_He threw onion in your eyes for asking a simple question._

“You’re not **_nice_** Erik, you don’t do things like this without a dark motive.”

Erik gets to his feet and flips the table over with a single motion. Reyer jumps to his feet, takes a few steps back and he watches Erik, he is not moving.

Reyer ears explode with static, a low ringing, He can hear his heart beating, pounding inside his head and ears. He cannot move or feel his body.

Erik walks over with grace, time is slow, speeds up, all over the place. Reyer still cannot move or breathe. Erik stops directly in front of him, inches from touching.

Reyer knows that this could be the end. He waits for it.

Erik drops to his knees and Reyer had not expected that. Erik’s body is shaking silently. Reyer doesn’t know what this means. He gingerly touches Erik’s shoulder, Erik wraps his arms around Reyer’s lower half.

“Erik.”

Erik says nothing, he does not increase pressure or move or make any sounds. Reyer does not know what to do. He keeps his hand on Erik’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Reyer is shaking now.

“I’m sorry.”

Erik lifts his head up and Reyer inhales deeply. Erik stays like that for a moment before he stands to his feet. Reyer is shaken, he is cold. Erik cups his face with his hands, he kisses his forehead through his mask, he lowers his masked face to Reyer’s ears.

“ _Good boy.”_

He scratches behind Reyer’s ears, runs his hand through the top of head roughly.

The rest of the night is a blur. Reyer doesn’t remember cleaning the floor or setting the table upright.

“I had more fun more tonight than I have in days.”

“Now if you’re a good boy, you’ll get a special treat tomorrow. Don’t tell Raoul, you know he hates for you to be spoiled.” Erik kisses the top of Reyer’s head.

“Good night, Meri.”

Erik sees himself out and Reyer leaves the world for awhile.

* * *

Reyer and Raoul meet up at the same corner for coffee.

“You look like hell, Meri, did you have that dream about the frog duck again?”

“I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Damn, you should called me or texted.”

“I was unable to do that.”

“What happened?”

“Dinner took a weird turn.”

“Weird? Ah, Meri. Do not order those weird mystery boxes for food! You know that never works out! Last time you and Jules were sick for two weeks!”

“I will try to remember that.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Reyer forces a smile and nods.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Reyer kept the dead smile on his face and turned off the world.


	21. 198 You're Welcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyer gets a wish granted by the darkest fairy godmother, Jules comes home, Raoul has tacos and the pocket thesaurus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (references)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRxe9elGcMU  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IioQ91ArJxo  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7RHI8hsVPc  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NxY0YXT3ZFE  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kvgz6swo-vY

* * *

Raoul decides to take the day off, the second he recognized That Look. It is the same look that he, his brother, and cousins would have after an eventful day with The Grandfather.

So, obviously something horrid happened last night, and Raoul as Reyer’s person, is going to make today better. He hails a taxi, grabs Reyer and their random on the spot adventure begins.

“What are we doing, the Opera Populaire is two more blocks away.”

“We need a day off.”

“We need a day off?” Reyer flinches as he realizes he asked a question.

“I think it would be good for our mental stability and worth ethic if we engaged in a lackadaisical kind of whimsy.”

“Fancy word there.”

“I got the thesaurus yesterday.”

“Where to,” the cabbie asks.

“Closest toy store, no preference beyond that.”

“Playing hooky at the toy store, how far we’ve come as adults.”

“I want to get the Loudest Thing of all the things and go on a tour bus.”

“I think that would be somewhat fun, but not whimsical.”

“The balloons will make it whimsical.”

“Don’t toy with my emotions, not today.”

After a few minutes they arrive to the toy store, it’s open this time. Reyer wastes no time in finding the balloons, and Raoul looks for the Loudest Thing.

“I got the balloons! They wouldn’t let me take all 99, but I got 25, so let’s do this!” Reyer is giddy, Raoul holds up the Loudest Thing.

“Now we find ourselves the tour bus,” Raoul and Reyer do not need to wait long, as there are a few on this block, they hop on. Reyer makes everyone uncomfortable, by the 25 balloons that keeps hitting people in the head and otherwise.

Raoul loudly unpacks, unwraps The Loudest, and batteries **_are_** included. He experiments by pressing some buttons, the first sound, surprises Reyer, so he loses a balloon or two, he curses them for their betrayal.

“Oh, come on! You knew you wanted this!” Reyer stabs two balloons with a pen, this causes the tourists to nearly jump out of their sits.

“Mommy, why is that man popping the balloons?”

“I don’t know, ignore him.”

“Mister, why are you popping the balloons,”

“Hello, and duh.” Reyer pops two more, this causes more tourists to murmur their annoyances, and they hear his English accent, which adds more ire.

“Ugh, go back to the pond.”

“I’m not a koi fish!” Reyer turns his head around and glares.

“Meri, release some balloons, see if we can make the song real.”

“These are mine! Mine to do with as I choose.” He pops two balloons while glaring something fierce.

“Faire enough.” Raoul presses more buttons on the Loudest Thing.

“Oh, come on! Do you really need to do that,” shouts an American wearing a blue hat, his wife glares at Raoul.

Raoul presses more buttons.

Eventually they tire of the bus, hop off and a new form of entertainment is developed.

Raoul presses buttons just as someone passes him, the results vary. Sometimes people freak out and look around and others glare and curse. Someone jumped into the arms of a stranger while screaming.

Reyer laughed so hard at the last one, he forgets himself, and accidentally let go of his remaining balloons, he could not reach or recover.

“Damnit to hell in a fast car!” He wants to break The Loudest Thing, but he lets it go.

“We could ask random people for an autograph. I have some program samples in my bag they could sign.”

Raoul hands some over to Reyer, who walks up to a couple and holds out the program.

“Can I have your autograph?” He is breathy, and rolls on the balls of his feet, he uses one of the other programs as a fan. The couple are confused.

“Like, seriously, have no idea, I thought I was going to die! Please?”

“Uh. Sure.” The woman takes the program and signs it with the pen Reyer provides her. He hugs the program to his chest in a dreamlike state and returns to Raoul.

“That was kind of fun.”

“We need coffee,” Raoul points to a building across the street. Reyer nods and they make their way, after a fee minutes of waiting, they find a seat with their beloved caffeine.

“I think we fettered enough, so what happened?” Raoul asks as he takes a tentative sip from his cup.

“Fettered? We are on a roll, Tourvel.”

“Tourvel, and thank you pocket thesaurus.”

“Please, who did you think you were in this fantasy? You’re not Glenn Close,” Reyer shake his head feigning disappointment.

“So, what happened?”

“I told you, dinner got weird.”

“Weird how. I know That Face, That Look says something else happened. Was it Jules? Get into a fight? Are you having doubts he wants to marry you? He’s the one who proposed.”

“It’s more of a casual, hey look at your hand, there, and I did, and he put a ring on it.”

“Meri.”

“It’s not how I imagined it would happen, but here we are.”

“Meri, please.”

“If I tell you, it’s real and I’ll die.”

“I know CPR and I have a phone.”

“Are you happy?”

“I’m concerned about my person, and the fact he doesn’t feel that he can tell me what’s wrong.”

“I want to.”

“Then tell me.”

“It’s beyond my control,”

“Meri, seriously.”

“It’s beyond my control,” he says with more confidence.

“What’s beyond your control?”

“I have to take this one with me, it’s beyond my control.”

“You can tell me anything. Anything.”

“I did talk to Jules last night, it helped, but we got cut off at a critical point, and I couldn’t reconnect to his signal.”

“Oh. Maybe you can talk to him today.”

“I would like that, but we don’t have the best luck with wifi lately.”

“I’m sure he’ll find something.”

“We shouldn’t have skipped today.”

“What do you want me to do? Fire myself?”

“Ah. We are **_managers_** , so that would be a tad awkward now that I think of it.”

“Raoul, you skipped a workday for no reason other than your own selfish whimsy; Raoul, you don’t understand I had no other choice, it was beyond my control. Raoul, you’re fired.”

Reyer claps, or he taps his fingers against the coffee cup and sips.

“Jules probably **_could_** fire me. And Erik, have you read the deed? It is pretty intense. The **_land_** is owned by Erik, and the **_building_** is mostly owned by Jules. The rent for the plot is raised by 15% each year for the first ten years, so says the manager’s book, that Moncharmin and Firmin refused to read through.”

“Why do you pay it?”

“I own 33% of the Opera.”

“Jules has 67% and Erik owns all of the land we’re sitting on.”

“Yup."

“He is our literal landlord.”

“Yup.”

“Did you want to catch a movie or something?”

“I don’t want to be out for too much longer.”

Raoul frowns. Reyer does not want to be here anymore. He looks at the pattern of the tile on the ground, he envisions a vortex forming and casually slipping into it.

“We could duet again?”

“You don’t like dueting.”

“You love dueting.”

“Yeah.”

“So, there we are then.”

“We’re at confused. You drove us to befuddled on the perplexing highway, I didn’t even get to pick the oleanders in the garden.”

“Now who’s using their thesaurus.”

“No, I just needed you to know I knew “befuddled”, “perplexing” was the natural word.”

“Was it though?”

“Yes.”

“That Guy strikes again.”

“I do love to make entrances and enhance the vernacular “

“Never change, Meri.”

“I appreciate the offer of dueting, and this is the only time I’ll say this on such an offer, I’d really like to have the night to myself.”

“Are you sure? We could order food and watch Dangerous Things.”

“ _Dangerous_ **_Liaisons_**.”

“Hazardous Links.

“Never Change, Ralph.”

“Ralph? I’d take that over Leto every time.”

“Every time?”

Raoul nods.

“At least it’s kind of close to my name.”

“Is it?”

“R-A-L, then the changes.”

“Do you not know how to spell your own name?”

“There’s an “L” in my name.”

“The placement is not the third.”

“Anyway, better nickname.”

“We’ll see how it sits against the teeth.”

\--

* * *

Reyer pours a glass of wine and walks past the living room, goes up the steps, into his bedroom, and then settles into the walk in closet and shuts the door.

He leans back against the shoes and the wall, the hanging clothing conceals him, and he closes his eyes, waiting for infinity.

Time passes and he feels like he has separated his mind from body, something grabs his shoulders and he is brought back to Earth.

“Meri!”

“ _Jules_?!”

“Why are you drinking wine in the closet, it is going to—you know, not important. I’ll just—what happened to you?”

Jules pulls Meri from the closet, while keeping at eye on the wine glass, he grabs it from Meri, when it is about to tilt too much.

“What happened, when?” Reyer feigns confusion.

“Your last call, you were so pale, I’ve only ever seen you like that when you have your nightmares and terrors.”

“You left South Africa because I need to tan? Go back, you have work!”

“It’s my own job site. I’m not going to fire myself. You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to. Go back to Cape Town.”

“Something happened, you were starting to say. I can’t leave you until I know you’re good.”

“I’m good.”

“Don’t. “

“I had a terrible dinner date.”

“What happened during this tragedy.”

“It reminded me of my great aunt.”

Jules grabs Reyer’s hand.

“That’s not a good. Is that why you hid in the closet?”

Reyer nods.

“I thought you were skipping your meds again, and the last you time you did that, I didn’t know who you were and the things you were doing, you wanted to die.”

“I did.”

“And I thought, if I’m in South Africa and you’re dying, what kind of man does that make me?”

“Jules.”

“I should have never left; I knew something was wrong. You read another letter from her, didn’t you? She try to visit again?”

“I can hear her, why must you spit in the eyes of god? He loved you once, but never again, you are unclean.”

“I’m no god, but I love you.”

“Why doesn’t she love me?”

Jules holds on Reyer.

“She’s sick.”

“I had to have done something to earn that much hatred. She tried to give an enema once, twice. Had to go to the hospital because the neighbor saw all of the blood seep through my clothing.”

“An enema? To purge your homosexuality?” Jules holds him tighter; he never hears much about the great aunt, and what he does hear, sickens Jules. How can you live through something like that and be normal? Be Okay?

Reyer nods.

“The fasting and isolated repentance didn’t work, and our local church didn’t approve of those cleanse the gay camps, considered them akin to hate crimes, and the church maintained, we are about love and forgiveness. They sent my aunt pamphlets on forgiveness every week.”

“I’m sure she loved that.”

“She burned them.”

“This dinner date, who was it?”

Reyer tries to bury his head.

“Meri, who was this dinner date?”

“Erik.”

Jules feels electricity strike his spine.

“Erik? Did he do something?”

“My brain and emotions are so twisted right now.”

“Did he physically do something to you?”

“He threw onions in my eyes.”

“Anything else?”

“I-it was so fucked. My mind, my emotions, I’m exhausted, everything hurts, and it’s cold inside and then nothing, all at once. I can’t breathe when I think.”

Jules kisses Reyer with chaste, then holds him close. He pulls Reyer to his feet.

“A bath will make you feel better, I’ll order us some good Chinese, no more mystery box bullshit, you should have listened to Ralph.”

“I called him that today, said he liked it.”

“He liked it. Damn,” Jules half laughs, he leads Reyer into the bathroom.

“I trust you can handle a bath.”

“I can.”

Jules kisses his cheek.

“I have to take care of a few things, but I’ll be back. We’ll watch _Dangerous Liaisons_ and if we’re still awake _Pontypool_ , yeah?”

Reyer nods.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah. I love you more than the moon,”

“I love you more than you love me.”

“I should slap you like Amy Pond.”

“Take your bath, I’ll return shortly.”

\--

* * *

“One could argue this is a kind of kidnapping,” Raoul says as he follows the older man in front of him. Raoul had intended on going to sleep in the guest room of his stately home, but surprise, life had other plans.

“You said we’d have the week to spend time together, to give you what you needed to figure out what you wanted.”

“Yeah, I did say that.” Raoul feels like he’s about to step into a bear trap.

“So then one might insinuate that means spending time together.”

“True, I see the point there.”

Erik does the pattern to unlock the wall door, and steps aside to Raoul enter first.

“And I see we’re just going to ignore the, “kidnapping,” comment.” Raoul mutters.

“I’m not forcing you to be here,”

“True again.”

“Why didn’t you show up today?”

“I needed time off.”

“Why?”

Raoul will never get past the underground tunnels and full on lair feel, but to come into an extravagant home that should be included in an episode of, “Lifestyles of the rich and famous,” because my gods, this is elite mansion level if there ever were.

“I’ll never get over this. It’s like you live in a palace in the underworld, with a graveyard as your portkey.

“You read children’s books.” Erik is not impressed.

“ _Harry Potter_ is an everyone book.”

“If you’re seven, or soft in the head as an adult.” Erik has a destination in mind and Raoul is taking the scenic route.

“If you don’t like Harry Potter then maybe I should just leave and decide right now, O.G.”

Erik stops, his body jolts from an unseen attack.

“I don’t think that’s fair or an accurate measurement of compatibility.”

“Jest.”

“What did you do, on your day off?”

“Meri popped balloons, I played the Loudest Thing to annoys American tourists, then we got coffee.”

“You spent the day with Meri?” Erik motions for Raoul to sit at the dinning table, Meg is there, reading Harry Potter.

“Someone has taste,” Raoul says. Meg nods, and holds up her thumb, not taking an eye from the page.

“Why did you spend the day with Meri?”

“He needed a friend, he said he had a bad night. No details. Then he called me, “Ralph,”

“Ralph?”

“I kind of liked it. Need to see how it sits against the teeth.”

“You spent the day with Meri.”

“Yeah, why. He’s my friend.”

“Friend is a foreign concept in this household,” Meg says.

Erik says something in French that Raoul does not understand, but Meg winces, and continues to read in silence.

“He’s emotional.” Erik says, as he pulls things from the fridge.

“He’s fine.”

“Non compos mentis.”

Raoul exhales frustrated.

“You speak Latin fluently don’t you,” he can sense Meg’s equal frustration and amusement.

“English, Latin. German, Italian, Russian, Farsi, Arabic,” Meg trails off.

“I’m not apologizing for being a polyglot. You had every opportunity to learn linguistic skills. You chose to dance and fuck around.”

“What are you making? I’ve never seen you eat before.”

“You won’t. **_Ever_**.” Meg says.

“Tacos.” Erik says, distracted. He looks at what he has assembled.

“It’s not Taco Tuesday. You need the song.” Meg says.

“Then don’t eat.”

“I’ll tell Mother you’re starving me.”

“She would believe you,” he sighs.

“What song?”

“Jump the line!” Meg shakes, shakes, in the chair.

Erik takes out his phone, presses a few buttons, places it on the counter, he shows it off to Meg, who peers over the book. She dances her feet.

Raoul’s never seen their dynamic before and wants to watch more than engage.

The song plays, Meg dances from the chair.

“So, what is your school situation, Meg? Do you go to like a part time thing, homeschooled?”

“I went to boarding schools, now it’s home.” Meg puts her book down,

“Whereabouts?”

“Does it matter, she’s _here_.” Erik says testily.

“And now I’m here,” Meg she gets up from her chair and starts to dance.

She, shakes, shakes, shakes her body line. Erik stops dices tomatoes and Raoul looks over and feels deflated. Erik is not into the dancing Meg.

Meg ignores this and dances around the dinning and into the kitchen, she shakes her skirt and works her body line.

“So, **_now_** it’s Taco Tuesday.” Raoul says as she watches in amusement. Meg points at him and continues to dance.

Erik maneuvers her out of the kitchen, the song ends, she bows and spins before taking her seat and picking up her book.

“ ** _Erik_** , you **_stupid_** morphine addled son of country whore.” Jules is shaking with rage, and his smile is not a happy one.

Raoul is taken aback. Jules is only a few inches shorter than Erik, has short curly dark brown hair, and a three-day beard, and like Erik, overdresses for life.

“Jules?”

“Raoul!” Meg shouts

“Meg?” Raoul says confused

“There, now everyone is included.”

“Is that her?” Jules asks as he looks over to Meg, Erik nods.

“Ah, well, thank the maker she looks nothing like Antoinette or you.”

“True.” Erik says amused. 

“Also, hey Raoul can you and the kid leave us alone? Mum and Dad have to **_fight_** now.” Jules rolls up his sleeves for good measure.

“Uh, sure, Meg, why don’t you give me the full tour.”

“You want to watch a movie about clowns instead?”

“Why not,” Meg and Raoul leave them to it.

Once Jules is satisfied with their distance, he turns on Erik.

“What the hell did you do to my Meri?”

Erik sighs and puts down the knife. He really just wanted to have a quiet night in.

“I made him dinner.”

“Yes, but I **_know_** you.”

“That’s it.”

“And the onions you threw in his eyes?”

Erik chuckles, a fond memory.

“Yeah, I forgot I did that.”

Jules steps up to Erik and has full on glare.

“That’s not funny. What was his crime? Asking what you are chopping? Oh, my, how offensive! That’s **_not_** what the no questions rule is protecting!”

“I made modifications.” He places a hand on Jules, who bites it hard, drawing blood.

“You make it nearly impossible to like you.”

Erik attempts to suck the blood through his gloves, Jules can’t even with him, and backs away.

“But not impossible.”

“God, I’m such an idiot. I thought that you were **_changing_**. You said that the only reason you were such a cunt was because of **_her_** and I see that she is back in your life, so what’s the excuse this time?”

“Fun?”

“If that is what you consider fun, then keep me and Meri out of it. I do not want you to come to the wedding anymore. I can find someone else to take your place.”

“What? No. Jules, I really meant for him to enjoy the meal, I followed your recipe.”

“My recipe doesn’t include the step, throw onions into Meri’s eyes!”

“I may have let my desire for pleasure to control me.”

“Really.”

“It was- “

“I swear if you say, what I think you’re going to say, I will punch your kidneys.”

Erik sighs and waves his bleeding glove dismissively.

“You want us to be friends, want me to stay in your universe?”

“I do.”

“Then stop tormenting Meri!”

“What if I just lower the level?”

Jules shakes his head.

“He’s the hyper runt of the litter, I cannot not play with him.”

Jules slaps his mask. Hard. If Erik hadn't had it fastened to his face, it would have come off.

“Sorry, I let my desire to smack you control me.”

“Ah, I enjoyed it if it helps.” He scratches under Jules chin, who allows it before he moves his head, and the hand. Erik smiles behind the mask.

“I did too, and that’s not good. You need to apologize to Meri.”

“Fine, if that’s what takes for you to stay.” Erik says exasperated. He exhales deeply and leans into the counter behind him.

“Thank you, now I have to go. I had him built to such a higher state before I left, then you tear into him and gut everything. I left Denny alone!”

“Meri doesn’t deserve you.”

“And no one deserves the **_hell_** you put them through. May this new one last or die quickly or wises up and **_leaves you today!”_**

Jules spins around and marches out of the kitchen.

\--

* * *

Raoul and Meg are enjoying the movie, Raoul asks all the right questions, and they have their own banter party going on.

Erik sits down next to Raoul.

“Marguerite finish the prep work. We’ll join you for dinner in a minute.”

She does not need to be told twice and leaves.

“How do you have your own theatre? Do you have a bowling alley too? Can we have cosmic bowling”

“No.”

“Feel like that’s a missed opportunity.”

“ _Shut up_.”

Raoul frowns and he does. He turns his focus to the movie.

“I didn’t mean that. I-starting over. The last two days have been enjoyable.” Erik must force the words from his tongue.

“I did enjoy spending time together.”

“We were supposed to have a dinner together.”

“Introduce me to the kid, watch a film, then retire to slumber times.”

“Something like that.”

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then yeah, good relationship build.”

“Will you stay the night?”

Raoul is silent for a minute,

“Answer pending.”

“What?”

“No questions!”

“I want you to stay so I will disregard that.”

“Then what are we waiting for? There are tacos!”

Raoul jumps the seat in front of him and runs down the aisle and out of the cinema room.

\--

* * *

“Why not write an Opera or Operetta about tacos.” Meg carefully builds her a taco. She looks at Erik for a second, before she goes back to her food project.

“Not even for jest,” Erik says with derision, he shoots her a look that says he will not suffer her idiocy and mindless whims, as much of a look as he can, behind and with the mask.

“I’m writing a musical about grilled cheese.” Raoul says, Meg’s eyes light up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have anything beyond, musical about grilled cheese.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,”

“Rrrr, rrr, art police.” Meg says before she takes in a bit of taco.

“I like her,” Raoul says to Erik,” I like you,” he says to Meg.

“I always have an opening for friends.” Meg sighs.

“You don’t **_need_** friends.” Erik snaps.

“Sure, she does. Friends and grilled cheese musicals,” Raoul says.

“Tacos and rabbits, even. All of it.”

“Rabbits?” Raoul asks, “not puppies?”

“Never had one of them, had a rabbit named Keaton.”

This strikes a chord of familiarity and alarm.

“You had a rabbit named what?” Raoul’s voice low, like he is about to uncover some great terrible secret.

“Keaton. He ran away. I did my best to keep him happy, but story of my life. Another to leave me, eh.”

“Keaton.” Raoul repeats.

“You like the name?”

“Did its collar, was it like black satin? More like a fancy necklace deal?”

Meg nods.

“ ** _Why_**.”

Erik turns his mask face to Raoul, and Raoul feels like he needs to stop talking, that he is being given a warning before the call of war.

“I may have seen a collar like that somewhere, don’t usually hear the name, “Keaton,”

Meg is satisfied with that answer. Erik’s unseen gaze does not let up. Raoul shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“I think I need more tacos on Tuesdays.” Raoul says, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

“You really do.” Meg builds a new taco

\--

* * *

“Are you staying?”

Raoul considers his options, he must walk all the back to the office, and then walk several blocks home, where he as to sleep in a bed that’s slowly killing him.

“I think my bed is trying to kill me.”

“Is that an affirmative, re: staying the night?”

Raoul nods.

“Can we?”

“Eight years ago, Reyer’s car got hit by someone’s pet rabbit named Keaton.”

“And?” Erik tries to get Raoul onto the bed.

“And it’s kind of funny in a way, that Meg has a pet rabbit run away, with the same name, that collar,”

“What’s the point of this?” Raoul adjusts to a comfortable position and tries to block the sexual advances.

“ ** _Did_** her rabbit run away?”

“If I answer, you will stop asking inane questions, so we can enjoy this bed’s other intended uses?”

“Yes.”

“It jumped out of her window when I was cleaning the cage.”

“Why not just tell her?”

“She was seven and the rabbit was her only friend. Running away felt kinder.”

“Kinder, how?”

“I gave her hope.”

“Hope.” Raoul repeats, he drops his guard and Erik moves Raoul into a position, that suits his needs.

“That he was still out there, maybe with other bunnies, or a new family. Instead of dead on someone’s car.”

“I see.”

“Can we move on now?”

Raoul nods.

\--

* * *

Reyer takes a deep breath as he steps through the doors of the Opera Populaire, and then it’s like he’s sucker punched by Valmont and candy comes out.

The main lobby is filled with red balloons. So many balloons, it’s an infestation.

“Mer, you got a card and this bullshit,” Reyer runs forward to the ticket agent. Reyer recognizes the script instantly.

**_198 you are welcomes._ **

**_P.S._ **

**_If you tell my Leto about the dinner, I will kill you._ **

**_XOXO_ **

**_Erik_ **

Reyer looks around the room. This is the best worst thing ever. He rips up the note.

“I’m going to enjoy this, fuck it.” He pulls out a pen and sets off to work.


	22. No Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nettles takes action and sets the stage for further ruin.

* * *

**France, 2011**

It took meticulous planning to the point of tedium for things to come into place the way Toni intended them to. She had three burner phones, two laptops, each wiped cleaned and then burned, just to be safe.

Their finances were always separate, and Toni made sure she didn’t have the same bank and had a P.O. box for the letters that she received.

The interview had been set up as a casual meeting over coffee, and since it felt like a normal interaction, there had been no need to discuss it or remember later that evening.

She printed out the boarding pass on one of the previous destroyed devices at the local library that evening.

She waited until Erik had been properly distracted by something, she made sure to mention his favorite pieces of artists he had respected, and when he took the bait, that’s when she set it all in the final movement, the last ballet.

Toni gathered the sleeping Meg into her arms, the car had not been waiting long, and the nanny is ready and waiting.

Toni hands off Meg, drops off the bag, kisses her daughter goodbye for what feels like the last time, she knows it is not, but Meg must stay away for long as she can.

Toni retired to bed and Erik joined her an hour or so later. To ensure that he would not know until the morning, she did her best to distract him further with her body, until she had been thoroughly exhausted.

“Where’s Meg?”

Toni ignored the question, she poured herself a cup of coffee, picked up the newspaper, and went to her seat at the table. She could feel his eyes on her, but she did her best to ignore it.

He followed her to the table, as soon as she sat down, he took the newspaper, and leaned into, voice at her ear.

“Where is Marguerite?”

“I did what you said.” Toni takes a sip of her coffee.

“What does that mean?”

“A good wife listens to her husband, so I did.” She attempts another sip, but he takes that, he throws it off to the side.

His anger is coming out. Toni pressed her lips together tightly and took a deep breath.

“And what did the husband tell the wife to do?”

“You said to do what as I pleased, after all, you have no feelings towards her.”

“And what is it that you did?”

“Does it matter? You have no feelings about her.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s not here.”

He slams his fist against the table. Toni notes that he is practicing great restraint despite this display. If he had been truly enraged, the table would be splinters.

He is trying to intimidate her. She expected this, and she refuses to lose her resolve.

“She’s safe, if that’s your worry.”

“Safe, **_where_**.”

“Does that mean, that you do care? That you do have feelings?”

“Antionette, where is my daughter?”

Toni laughs bitterly.

“So, now she’s your daughter? I thought you were training her to be your dog.”

He grabs her arm, forcing her to stand and face him.

“Where is she?”

“Away from you.”

“Fine. You win. I have feelings. Bright her back.”

Toni looks up at him.

“No.”

“Antionette.”

“You can threaten me, push me around, it won’t help you. I am not an idiot or a blind. How long did you think that this would go on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. I do not have time for another production, of the great innocent Erik. You know what you did.”

“Obviously, I don’t.”

“I saw the bruises. I don’t hit her, Denny is no longer with us, and that just leaves you.”

She narrows her eyes in disgust and hatred. He lets her go. He takes a step back as if he were struck, pushed.

“What?”

“Oh, yes.”

He looks at his hands as if they betrayed him and then back to her.

“I didn’t-I’ve never—”

“Oh, so what? A phantom came into the house, snuck into her room, and bruised her ribs? Is that what happened, Erik?”

“Bruised her?”

“You are sick. You really expect me to believe this? Your acting doesn’t work on me.”

Toni can no longer face him, and she leaves him alone.

Erik stumbles off into Meg’s room. He looks around, he spots her doll, the doll he made for her. He walks over to the nightstand by the bed, picks up the doll.

Her music box. He traces it with his gloved fingertips. He walks over to her bed and looks around. The room is both full and empty. He lies down awkwardly onto the bed.

He turns to the right. He can see her little ghost running all over the room, with her doll, laughing madly, like she should be right now.

He turns over to his back and stares upwards. He closes his eyes and tries to think, to remember, did he ever hit her?

He has moments where things tend to blur, but he honestly has no memory where physical violence came, not with her.

A book flashes in his mind, in lights on a marquee:

_Of Mice and Men._

“I’ll love you to death,” he whispers.

He grabs his masked head. Memories, images flooding, her wincing, a low cry of pain, when he embraces her. It is not abuse if he hugs her. That is love.

Abuse is anger, hitting, punching. He does not do that. He would not do that. He hates that. His mother put him through that, the gypsies put him through that. He promised he would not put any of his ilk through that.

He does not beat her. He loves roughly, but he does not beat her. He would never do that. The idea makes him sick.

He is a good father. He loves her with all his passion. His hug may be intense, but how else would she know she is safe in his arms? Let her flop around? Fall to the floor? His grip is tight to keep that from happening.

And Nettles to accuse him! To genuinely believe that he would ever-no, she knows him better than that. This must be a twisted game or sick nightmare.

He would very much like to wake up now.

\--

* * *

* * *

**Present**

  
Erik checks in on Meg three times throughout the night, just to be sure she is still there. He can never be sure, not since that night nine years ago.

He removes himself from the bed, navigates through the dark hallway and enters her room.

He lets out the breath he does not know he is holding. Meg is asleep, in bed, where she should be. Her doll by her side and the music playing, she must have gotten up not too long ago to have it play.

When she was with Christine, he would do the same. He had a key, he go inside the apartment, just to see if she was still where she should be, and then go home. The lengths he has to go to.

As soon as Meg came back from Canada, of the places to send her, he forbade Meg to mention her time there. Nine years without her had been a Hell he'd like to forget, and any reminder left a sharp bitter taste in his mouth.

He is contented. He walks over to her and looks down at her. She's breathing peacefully. He gently runs his hand through her hair. He tilts his head to the side. He looks at his fingers, a piece of a twig? 

_And how'd that get there?_

Her window is open. He walks over and peers out. Nothing unusual. The tree is a perfect distance. Pity. He'd have to knock it down now. He frowns. The things you have to do to keep them contained and safe.

Still.

He walks back to her side, and tucks her in. She'll always be his little one with pigtail braids dancing around the kitchen to him, and he'd kill anyone who'd argue otherwise.

Meg is where she is supposed to be, and he closes the door quietly. Jules’s random appearance threw him off. He forgets that Jules never met Meg.

Paranoia sets in. If Nettles feels that something is off, she could take her again, like a thief in the night.

He will kill everyone on this Earth if his Marguerite is taken away from him again.


	23. Gala Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a new Gala.
> 
> Reference video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQ04gPb4LlY

* * *

Everyone is gathered in the Pink Room. It’s that time again, another Gala, another night of networking and trying to whore for donations and, sponsors, subscribers, etc.

“It’s that time again. Let’s go over the rules,” Raoul starts,

“Two drink limit, do not mention the accidents, the murder---er accidental deaths, we are not haunted, two drink limit. Stay together in groups! Your group is your family, you stick together,”

“We’re not there to be dance monkeys, you will not preform when they snap their fingers, they want to see your talents? Tell them to come to the opera,”

“Remember the same rule of respect, always act and speak like you are talking to the person you respect the most in life. You are representing all of us. There are more than 36 of us, who make up Opera Populaire.,”

“Same dress code,”

“We are not haunted! No Phantoms, no ghosts, we just have an old building.”

Jess raises her hand, Reyer aand Raoul nod for her to speak.

“Can we bring a date?”

Reyer and Raoul exchange glances.

“I suppose you could bring someone, do you have a . . partner?”

“No, but this guy I want underneath me likes this kind of baroque gaudy party shit.”

“Excellent, I see no problem. If you any of you would like to bring a plus one.” Raoul says.

“Do **_you_** have a plus one?” Joe asks, and the others join in. Reyer slaps his shoulder,

“Yes, Raoul, do you have a plus one?”

“I’m there to work, so it would be unfair for me to bring someone, I’m **_rusty_** at these sorts of things.”

\--

* * *

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know what you did!”

“I think someone is insecure.”

“It’s not insecurity, it’s babysitting.”

“Ah, yes. I can see your point.”

Raoul picks up the duck from his desk and throws it at Reyer. He catches it and throws it back.

“If we can make it again without incident, I’ll want for nothing the rest of the season.” Raoul hangs his head and exhales deeply.

“If only, knock on wood.” Raoul and Reyer both knock on the desk.

“Are you bringing Jules?”

“Yeah, it’s the last night he’s here, he’s going back to South Africa tomorrow, has to finish the job, just a few weeks.”

“Early flight?”

“Afternoon. He likes to enjoy his mornings.”

“Ooh. I see, a long goodbye.”

“Something like that.”

Meg knocks on the door, before entering, she is holding a laptop.

“Hey, Meg, what’s up?”

Meg walks up to the desk and presents the laptop. She presses play on the video and turns it so Raoul can see the video.

“Okay, what’s the this?”

“Nails, hair, hips, heels.”

“I can see that.”

“Can we do this.”

“Do? What do you mean?”

“Can we perform this during intermission? The dancers and ensemble players? So, they can get spotlight and attention?”

“Uh,” Raoul looks at Reyer, who shrugs.

“I mean this is kind of vulgar.”

“All of our performances either feature sex, murder, rape, or imply it. We swear all the time, it’s just not always in a language the audience speaks. Shakespeare had jokes about oral sex in like, every play.”

“That is true.”

“So, can we do this? Because we’ve been studying the moves and I think we got this.”

“We’ll discuss this at the meeting for performances that’s coming up.”

“Because I know about 20 dancers who can do high kicks like, we can kick you in the head. Because we can.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

“Consideration means no. You’re my Papa’s new friend, right?”

Raoul does not like where this going. He hesitates before he answers.

“Yes,”

“It would be a shame if something happened to end your friendship, cause mistrust.”

Yes, Meg is Erik’s child. Raoul feels his palms sweat and he needs cod water.

“You’re going to threaten me over a dance for intermission?”

“Yes.”

“Holy Christmas.” Reyer says.

“Fine, fine, you can get your dance. I thought we were cool?”

“We are! Thank you, you’re the best boss ever!” Meg curtsies before she leaves gigging.

“She’s going to make Erik proud,” Reyer says shaking his head.

* * *

Raoul has everything ready. He’s got his Reyer Emergency Aid Kit: smelling salts, a candy bar, water botte filled with gin, a small water bottle, which is water, bandages, in case, crackers, ginger-ale, a picture of Lea Salonga.

“I got the designs for the costumes.” Meg hands him several sketches, and printed images.

“Designs for what?” Erik takes them.

“For the dance during intermission.” Meg says, still damn gleeful about her successful threat.

“What intermission dance? We don’t have that.” Raoul ignores the intense mask that’s staring into his soul.

“Raoul, says we can.”

“What’s the dance?”

“Uh, this—”

Meg shoves phone into Erik’s mask and he takes it. He plays the video.

“What is this?”

“I don’t play, I work,”

“You agreed to this?”

Raoul looks at the ground, hoping for a vortex.

“He said we could!” Meg nods and starts dancing like those in the video.

“No.” He hands the video back.

“Well, Raoul said we could and he’s the boss, so there!” Meg sticks out her tongue and makes faces as she dances backwards away.

“You’re not doing that. It’s inane and an affront to the senses and art.”

“I understand your contempt, but I promised her?”

“I separate **_Raoul_** from **_Leto_**. I will not let you do this, **_Raoul_**.”

Raoul does not like hearing his name being said in that dangerous, you are going to regret this, way. Or that the fact that Erik sees him as two separate individuals.

“I’ll be completely honest with you, I have no desire to do it either, but she kind of hinted that she would do something if I didn’t.”

“She threatened you?”

Raoul nods.

“Hm. She would need something on you,” Erik tilts his head.

“I don’t know what it would be, but if she’s anything like you, then I don’t want to risk it, so the intermission dance is happening.”

Erik walks forward and cups Raoul’s face with a single hand.

“Who do you fear more?” His voice gentle, sweet like honey.

“I don’t want to go to war with Meg, she has high kicks,”

“Is that your final answer?”

“If it’s during intermission, it’s not going to have an impact on the actual performance the audience came to see! This would just be a fun thing that is unexpected. Like during _Cabaret_ , where the MC messes with the crowd.”

“One show, one time, never again.”

Raoul nods.

“Yes, I can agree to that.”

Erik scratches under Raoul’s chin.

“Good job, Mr. Manager.”

Meg returns wearing a black dress, she looks good. The kind of good, where you may not be single at the end of the night, good. She’s got dark tights on that showoff her legs and their curves.

“You look good.” Raoul says.

“For the Gala?” Erik asks.

“Yeah, I wore this last time. I fig, why not.”

“No.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Meg looks down and pulls at the fabric.

“Do you have a longer dress?”

“This is the only thing I have that fits the dress code. I have to wear it.”

“If that’s the only dress,” Raoul says.

“If you wear that dress, I’m coming as your plus one.”

“Fine, whatever.”

Raoul can feel his heart on the cusp of exploding.

“Raoul’s attending the Gala, not, erm, Leto.” Raoul cringes, he does not like his “name,” Erik has for him.

“Who’s Leto?” Meg asks, making a face.

“Good, this will make it more fun.”

Raoul waits for the vortex to liberate him from life.

\--

* * *

Christine, wearing her noir outfit, waves Meg over, who gleefully comes over.

“Another night, another party to slut it up.” Christine hates these events.

“We can’t even drink like the others. It’s so boring. Oh, my Papa is around here somewhere, if I can find him, and he’s not being totally awful, I’ll introduce you!”

“Oh, I thought he was the evilest of evil?”

“He is, but Cerberus is taking care of the underworld with Charon, so he’s going to try to loosen up.”

“I suppose we should try to mingle and see if we can get points for an attempt to garnish interest in our Opera.”

Meg nods, and the two girls make their first round of the room.

\--

* * *

It’s going well for Raoul. Erik is keeping to the shadows and playing up his role of Phantom. He knows how to blend, despite wearing his Red Death outfit, and the mask that Raoul designed for him.

“So, Erik is around somewhere.”

“No, The Phantom, not Erik.”

“So, that’s what we’re doing?”

Jules looks around.

“Phantom? You said Erik was here, where?” Jules peers’ past others, and cannot see his ex.

“It’s a weird convoluted thing, Jules.”

“Of course, sounds like my guy.” Jules drinks champagne and ignores the explosion of pale of Reyer’s face and how he almost dropped his drink. Raoul has his hand on the smelling salts, just in case.

“Ah! I know him!” Jules hands his flute to Reyer.

“I’ll be back, have to say hello,” He strides over to a gentleman that Reyer is now convinced Jules is going to leave him for. Raoul puts his around Reyer, to steady him.

“Jules is a part of this elite crowd, his work, remember?” Raoul uses his nurse voice. Reyer nods, he cannot breathe, and the room is spinning faster than a turntable on high.

“Yes.”

“He chose you.”

Reyer nods, the room is so heavy, he leans forward a bit, but Raoul can catch, and steady him straight.

“You are going home with him at the end of the night.”

Reyer swallows hard, and he nods. His face dripped with sweat.

“You’re Mercier Reyer. Masters of Music Education, a teacher, a musician, who can play the fuck out of the mandolin.”

“Yes, I am very good.”

“We’re going to win all of the Tony’s with our musical.”

“This is true, we just need to finish it.”

“Start it and then finish,”

Reyer breathes in and out and in and out. He waves his hands around like a bird trying to fly for the first time.

“We good?”

“Our love is god!” He downs both drinks he’s holding.

“Damn straight, you and Jules, OTP of the Opera Populaire.”

“Thank you.”

“Now let’s get out there and whore our opera and players.”

Both men nod and get their game faces on and start their round.

\--

* * *

Meg and Christine have no such luck.

“Why should I invest any money in your theatre? I hear of such terrible accidents.”

“Our building has had some mishaps, but we produce good work!” Meg says.

“We have some of the best talent.”

“Yes, yes, that Mexican.”

“Spanish.”

“Same difference.”

“No,” both girls say.

\--

* * *

Reyer and Raoul have some better luck. They mingle, shake hands, sing praises of their 36 talented players,

“Theta Minor! As I live and breathe!”

Raoul’s spine explodes white hot heat, he feels it crack, and his heart screams into his head. He cannot move. Reyer looks at him with concern.

“Raoul?”

“It is you!”

An older gentleman, he strides over, and grabs Raoul’s arm and turns him around, checking his body over. Raoul is powerless and says nothing. Does nothing.

“Raoul?” Reyer has never seen Raoul in this state before.

“The family misses you. We still think of you and pray for you. You little shit. Leaving us like that, no note, like a thief in the night! Beta cried for days, you were supposed to be her link, remember?”

He shakes Raoul.

“The family? Are you Raoul’s?” Reyer isn’t sure what to ask.

“We took him in, he was a lost soul and we showed him how to live, how he could make a difference. We were his family. Then, he just leaves, disappears!”

“Ah. I think I understand.” Reyer grabs Raoul’s shoulder and pulls him into him. Raoul is pale, he looks like a ghost.

“Theta, you’d have to have known we would find you,” he laughs, it’s not kind or jovial. Reyer shivers, it reminds him of Erik, the Phantom.

“I think, I think, Raoul needs some air, we’ll come back to you.” Reyer does his best to steady and carry Raoul across the room to the bathroom.

Reyer places Raoul against the wall, he slides down into a seated position, and Reyer goes to lock the door. He sits down in front of Raoul.

“I’m the one who is supposed to break, that’s the rule, Raoul. You’re the stable one,” he says forcing himself to laugh.

“I take it, he’s the leader of your cult. I would probably freak out too. You’re still free! You don’t have to do anything for them. You are Raoul.” Reyer says.

“Can you hear me?” Reyer snaps his fingers, claps his hands. No response or acknowledgement.

“You’re not allowed to be the broken one, remember? You’re supposed to save my life.”

Raoul isn’t home, the lights have gone out. Reyer grabs his head, his hands on his cheeks.

“Raoul, I need you to be okay, because I’m not okay. You have to be the strong one in this relationship. “

Nothing.

“I won’t let them take you. I’m not much of a fighter, but if they try something, I won’t let them. I’ll bite, and kick. Hell, we’ll sic the Phantom on him.”

Reyer rests his forehead against Raoul.

“You know I love you right? How can I tell you to eat glass, if you’re like this?”

Something falls from Raoul’s pocket, the smelling salts. Reyer smiles.

“Of course, you’d bring this for me.” He picks it up and places it under Raoul’s nose. After a minute, it kicks in, Raoul slaps his nose and coughs and sneezes.

“Meri?” Raoul looks around.

“You’re back.”

“I. That. Him.” Raoul shakes.

“I figured.”

“I can’t go back out there. He.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere. We can stay here until the party is over.”

Raoul nods.

“Hey, want to sing the _Be More Chill_ soundtrack?”

“Only if we sing _Frozen_.”

Reyer slaps him.

“This will **_never_** be a _Frozen_ house!”

“Exactly.” Raoul’s flicks Reyer’s nose.

* * *

Christine needs a minute to be alone. Too many people. It does not help that they keep asking her about her Papa.

“Did he teach you how to play the violin?”

“No, I would accompany him with my voice. He wanted me to sing.” Christine says, trying not to cry.

“Oh, so he taught you to sing. I would love to hear you sing one of his songs.”

“Perhaps, one day.” Christine smiles sadly before she makes a hasty exit out of the room.

Christine tries to keep her breathing normal.

“ _Christine_.” A voice she knows all too well sings softly. Her name is always a melody on those lips. She looks around, in desperation, and happy panic.

“Angel? Where are you?”

“ _You want to finally meet_?

“You’ll present yourself finally?” She hates being teased by him.

“ _Yes_.”

His voice is everywhere. She does not know where to look.

“Christine! There you are,” Meg rushes over, and pulls her along.

“This creep keeps trying to touch my hair, I’m about to kick him in the head.”

“Meg, I—”

“I need a witness in case I do,”

Christine doesn’t want to go; she feels sick as Meg pulls her along.

\--

* * *

“Do you think it’s safe to leave yet?” Raoul asks. Reyer gets up, unlocks and opens the door. He sticks his head out.

“I don’t see him.” Reyer looks back to Raoul.

“I’m being stupid.”

“Raoul, someone who **_abused_** you just showed up in your life, you have every right to freak the fuck out.”

Raoul nods, he stands up, adjusts his suit.

“Let’s do this.”

As soon as Raoul makes it to the door, He walks through.

“Theta!”

Raoul walks backwards.

“Not the most ideal place to catch up, no?”

He shakes his head.

“Raoul and I have to go now,” Reyer grabs Raoul’s hand and they make a hasty exit. Instead of staying in the room for the Gala, Reyer takes him to the exit.

“We’ve had enough party”

“Yeah.”

Reyer looks around and calls:

“Erik! Phantom, whoever you are right now, need you go sic yourself on someone.” Reyer says.

“What was that?” Erik stops in front of Reyer, He is invading his space.

“Raoul’s- “

“No, it’s fine. I just need to somewhere and bury myself alive.”

Erik turns his attention to Raoul.

“What happened?”

“Yes, why don’t you two go and be supportive couple.”

“It’s fine, stay at the gala, I can handle this.”

“You were **_catatonic_** for like twenty minutes! That’s not handling!”

“What?” Erik turns his full attention to Raoul.

“I’ll be fine. You go have fun and haunt,” Raoul presses the button for the elevator.

“Leto, if you---”

“I want you to enjoy the gala.” Raoul steps inside the elevator.

“I can always come back,” Erik steps inside the elevator.

“You don’t have to do—” The doors close and Reyer sighs.

“Now all I have to do is survive until I get Jules back.” Reyer goes back amongst them.

\--

* * *

“He was here? Your magical mirror boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Well, where is he now?”

“I don’t know!”

Christine is in misery. She was so close to touching him, being with him.

“I can finally meet him! Judge him!” Meg is excited.

“Meg, no judging. This is the first time we’ll be with each other.”

“Right.”

Christine sighs, she just wants this night to end now.

“Let’s just go home now, I think the gala is ending.” The girls head off to the exit.

\--

* * *

Reyer and Jules find each other.

“This gala wasn’t a complete waste of my time. Did you get any donations?”

“Some.”

“Great, now lets go home, all the pretention is killing my spine and backside.”

“Your backside, eh?”

“Sympathy pains from the sticks.”

“I love you.”

\--

* * *

“The cult leader was there?” Erik hands Raoul a cup of tea. He’s on the bed and he’s pale as ever.

“He was. I forgot he still has this power over me. I can’t breathe or control myself. I was supposed to “link” with someone, I guess, marry? Bond? We were “farming” humans. So, we’d have the babies, they would be I guess, “raised” to a certain age then sold?”

“Adoption?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes the “crops” were bad.”

“Oh. I see.” Erik joins him on the bed.

“I saw what they did to the bad batch, and I couldn’t ignore it after that. I left. I could-have helped the—I just left. Children are dead, I could have helped at least one, but I left.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen. I left home after a stupid argument with Philippe. They found me, I felt special, I knew what they were, but I wanted to be loved, I felt like I didn’t have that.”

“You were sixteen.”

“Does it matter? You’ve accomplished a lot when you were **_five_**.”

“I’m not you. You were sixteen and you were doing the best **_you_** could do.”

“How many are dead or abused me because of me?”

“Drink the tea.”

“I’m a horrible person.”

“False.”

Raoul rests his head on Erik’s shoulder.

“Can we just lay here until the world goes away?”

“Drink your tea, you’ll feel better.”

“If I said I wanted you around, would you stay?”

“Yes.”

Raoul closes his eyes.

“I’ll only disappoint you.”

“Likely, but I’ll stick around for my own amusements.”

“Never change,”

"Unlikely."

"Can you just hold me until I die?"

Erik put his arm around him.

"No dying. We haven't even officially started yet."

"That would put a damper on a relationship." Raoul yawns.

"Indeed."

Erik holds onto him as he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't care either way about Be More Chill, but I figured that they would, so went with what they would think. Frozen, however, is terrible. I hate it as a writer, as a fan of film, as a fan of Disney. They didn't cut the fat. They realized 100 pages in they had no villain so they made it up on the fly, it's so bad. I can write a novel about this, but I digress.


	24. Hm

* * *

“Have you ever seen the film, _It Follows_?” Meg asks, as she changes into her costume. Christine nods.

“Meg, we saw that with Vincent last week, remember it was the, “doc about Ted Cruz,” the one where the demon is a STD.”

Meg’s mouth forms an O shape.

“That’s _It Follows_?!” She finishes clasping her costume closed and Christine nods, laughing.

“Yeah, why?”

“It came up on my Netflix feed. Oh. Oh! Ted Cruz. I get it now.”

Christine pulls out her makeup bag from her locker and heads towards the mirror. Meg follows, they share.

“Well, you’ve seen it.”

“Vincent asked me if we wanted to go to some maybe pagan underground rave.” Meg picks up the blush.

“What makes the rave pagan.”

“He thinks there are goats.” Meg shrugs.

“What? How does he know there may be goats?”

“He said that he saw them being herded. His internship is near the factory where the rave is supposed to be tonight, he thinks it will be the closest thing to a bacchanal, and he wants to go, but not alone, so I put us down as a maybe.”

Christine puts down the eyeliner and exhales. She, Meg, and Vincent have been hanging out a lot recently, and while she’s slowly developing friendshiply feels for him, she still feels the, you’re a creeper, feels more.

“I don’t like anything you’ve said.”

“Well, if you don’t go, I have to take Raoul and I don’t think he’s ever been to rave and you have and I can’t deal with a rave virgin while trying to enjoy a true bacchanal!” Meg stomps her foot and pouts.

“Why do you have take Raoul?”

“Because he’s the only other friend I have!”

“Is he?”

“Kind of!”

Christine shakes her head and continues to apply her makeup. Meg does the same, pauses.

“I mean, I’m not going to invite my Papa.”

Meg shudders.

“So, are you in?”

“Greek orgies are not my thing, sorry. I pass. Besides, I have a date anyway.”

“Mysterious magical mirror man.”

“A plus alliteration!”

Meg bows.

\--

* * *

Raoul is in an awkward position. One, he’s staying at his sort of romantic lead’s house, while the said lead is going to be busy with, “other plans that are not your concern,” Raoul should have seen that as a red flag, but he let it pass.

Second, he somehow got conned into babysitting.

“She’s sixteen, she’s old enough to be without parental guidance and otherwise. This is the time the both of you get more freedom.” Raoul says, he is finishing the budget for next month.

He jumps when he hears a loud thump thud. Erik punched the wall so hard, his hand gets stuck, he twists, and frees himself.

“That would be irresponsible,” Erik says, his tone and affect odd. Raoul is having one of those, thankful I cannot see your face, moments.

He has been wearing the mask Raoul made for him for much of the week, Raoul hates how much he likes that, or the fact it bothers him, is that a healthy reaction? He shakes his head.

So, Raoul agreed somehow, to watch over Meg while Erik tended to business that was not Raoul’s concern.

“My fee isn’t cheap.” Raoul says.

“I’ll pay you with sexual favors.”

“That may be accepted in place of legal tender.”

“It **_will_** do, I’m not paying you with money, Leto.”

And that was their last interaction, well they kissed a bit, well, **_a lot_** , then Erik wandered off somewhere in the shadows.

Third, Raoul is at a pagan rave with his romantic lead’s daughter, his charge for the night.

Meg smiles at him.

“You don’t have to take the drugs, Christine and I don’t.” Meg looks around, they are supposed to be meeting a friend. Raoul double takes.

“Drugs?”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be high, it’s supposed to heighten everything, but I don’t want to lose control of myself.”

“Meg,”

“They say it’s how you feel the music, whatever. I can feel music just fine now.” Meg waves, she found her friend.

Vincent runs over, he is wearing glowstick necklaces, and he hands glowsticks to both.

“So, don’t know where the goats are,” he says disappointed. Meg looks around wildly.

“I don’t even smell animals.”

“No, I swear I saw them being herded.”

“Goats? Is that normal?” Raoul is completely out of his element.

“Not really, here. You look nervous. Have a tic tac.” He hands a few ‘tic tacs,’ to Raoul. He shrugs and eats one, pocketing the rest.

“The party starts soon, lets walk around,” Vincent takes the lead, Meg and Raoul follow.

As they walk further and further into this dark concrete wilderness, it grows grayer, and grayer. Raoul’s heart is racing, colors become muted, and he cannot take walking.

He sits on the ground and starts to crawl, he loses the feeling of his legs, his hands, and his body. He sees air, everything floats, slowly. This must be what it’s like to know time.

He turns over onto his back. The world is throbbing, vibrating. He feels the blood and ants congeal into his veins. His hands fall off and fly away.

“Goodbye,” he says.

“Raoul?”

Darkness calls to him, he wishes he could wave. He closes his eyes.

“Raoul, we have to go now,” Something touches him.

“Raoul, seriously. Get up, we have to go! Cops, coming, cannot be arrested.”

Meg pulls and pulls, and finally Raoul stands to his feet. He is confused,

“I don’t have my hands back.”

“Your hands are fine, come on, we have to get a cab to the station.” Meg pushes him along.

“You look like a pink mouse, are you Minnie? Or Rat King’s daughter?” He stumbles with his movement.

“Sure, whatever, we’re in the _Nutcracker_.” She pushes him, tries her best to keep him standing and steady. Raoul digs into his pocket, he stares at the tic tacs, and he takes the rest.

“What did you just take?” She grabs his face, and they have a slap fight.

“Raoul, are you sure those are mints?!” She tries to get him to open his mouth, but he is stubborn. He pushes her away. Stumbles forward, trips.

Meg pulls him to his feet.

“This is why we can’t have nice things!” Meg finally hails a cab, she pushes Raoul inside. He closes his eyes and can see technicolor. He can feel time, he likes it.

“I can feel stars burst and expand. It is very full. I feel full, do you want pancakes? Green is salty.” He giggles madly. Meg shakes her head and crosses her arms.

“Words taste like,” Raoul tries to think, to stay focused. Meg pulls him out of the cab. Now the hard part, navigating back home though the tunnels, in the dark, with a very high Raoul.

“Words taste like,” Raoul tries to focus, words, they are, they are. He closes his mouth, licks his teeth. They taste, they do! He hiccups. 

Rust.

Did he lick rust?

“Lick rust, rust. Rusty. Ross. Rossy Ross,” Raoul cannot see, Meg is trying to him on the path, he keeps trying to walk away, turn back.

“Rust words, licked, licking, lick, lacked. Lickered.”

“Raoul, please stop talking.”

“No questions!”

“I didn’t ask anything.”

“No, no, no.” He stomps his foot.

“Raoul, stop being weird!’

“You stop!”

“You’re high, and I’m trying to take you home!”

“So yours face!”

“What are you talking about? Your face!”

Meg does the pattern, and the wall unlocks, revealing the door.

“Magic door! Magic door!” He laughs and he taps the wall, Meg pulls him along, and pushes the wall, it closes, with Raoul stares in awe.

“We really need to get you to come down. Coffee? No. Caffeine. Tea? Caffeine. Water?” Meg Pulls, pushes, tugs, Raoul to the kitchen.

She turns the light on and forces him onto a chair.

“Stay.” She steadies him, before she goes to a cabinet, and then the sink for water. She screams and drops the glass when she turns around.

“Peaches! Apricots! Words!” Raoul shouts gleefully before giggling into madness.

**_“Where. Were. You.”_** It goes without saying her Papa is quite upset with her. He advances towards her with each word, his body visibly shaking with rage.

“Eeep.” Is all Meg can manage.

“Goats!”

“Is he high?” Erik looks to Raoul, Meg tries to flee, but he catches her arm and pulls her back.

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“Stars tastes like cherries, do I taste like cherries, hey, it’s you! Hi,” Raul waves to Erik, he tries to adjust how he’s seated, he slides off the chair and into heap on the floor.

He spins around using his legs.

“Five words or less.”

“Party with a friend.” Meg counts the words with her fingers.

“ _What friend_.”

“My friend, I have friends.” Meg squeaks.

“I was with Christine,” Meg lies. Erik laughs darkly and tightens his grip; he leads her out of the kitchen.

“No, you weren’t.”

“Yes, I was! We went to a party, and Raoul was the chaperon and I don’t know what he took, that wasn’t me!”

“Last chance to try again.”

He throws her onto the floor of her bedroom. He leans against the door frame.

“We went to a rave,” she says quietly.

“A, **_what_**.”

“A rave! But I didn’t take any of the drugs! We only go for the music!”

“So, you didn’t take anything illicit? And the creature **_writhing_** on the floor of my kitchen is just, what? Sleep deprived?”

Meg shakes her head.

“He took something, but I didn’t and I don’t know where or how he got whatever he took! Ask him, when he’ s sober, that’s not on me!”

“And this friend?”

“Is a friend! He didn’t do anything!”

That strikes a chord of familiarity. He tilts his head to the side, Meg covers her hand with her mouth, she crawls over to him, grabs his hands.

“Vincent?”

“He’s just a friend, and he likes me, and I know you always say that I can’t trust anyone, but he likes me, I know he does! He’s not like Denny or the others!”

Erik frees his hands.

“You’re so naïve, it hurts.” He shakes his head. Meg tries to grab at him, but he pushes her away.

“We can trust him!”

“The fool in the kitchen says otherwise.”

“Papa, please.”

“I’m so disgusted and disappointed with you, I cannot look at you right now. Get to bed. Now.”

“I’m sorry.”

He removes himself from her grasp with more strength than necessary and slams her door shut.

He strides back to the kitchen and picks up Raoul by the arm.

“You’re high, so anything I say will be lost on you.”

“I like your glitter face.”

“I trusted you with her.”

“Her? Who? She?”

“I believe we can work past this, but I will have to punish you, but not now. When your sober, consider this a temporary free pass, my love.”

He kisses Raoul’s nose

“I like you a lot,” Raoul says.

“I know.”

“Be forever? Be my valentine of all times, lover?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He leads Raoul to a spare bedroom.

“You’re too high for anything to be consensual.” He takes Raoul to the bed and helps him get under the covers.

“When you’re sober in the morning, we have so much to discuss.”

“Love, love, love”

“Goodnight, Leto.”


	25. And the Romantic Lead Goes To!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul chooses his romantic lead and Toni gifts him a diary.

Raoul opens his eyes and feels instant regret. The room is dark, thank the maker, but he feels like his brain in a vice, the handle is being turned, the screws are twisting, digging into his soft brain meat.

He hears a sweet melody in the back of his head, it is low, soft, sad, delicate, it gradually becomes louder, more prominent.

What started off as sweet twists into something more insidious. Raoul wants to get up, leave. Something is pulling at him in all directions.

A shadow passes the bed and the lights turn on suddenly. Raoul closes his eyes, the pain in maddening.

“Ooh, poor darling,” a voice teases, and he feels the covers torn from him and the bed shifts. He feels a presence next to him.

“Do you remember last night?” Erik puts his arm around Raoul and rests his head against the headboard.

“Last night,” Raoul starts,” I was supposed to do something,” Raoul says,

“Yes. Do you remember what I asked?” Erik voice is too sweet, too kind, Raoul feels cold fear rise from the pit of his stomach, it threatens to strangle his heart.

“You wanted me to watch Meg?”

“I did.”

Raoul tries to put the pieces together. Fingers tap, tap, tap against his skin,

“I took her somewhere,” he is starting to remember.

“You did.” The voice tone changes slightly. Raoul eeps,

“I took her to a party.”

Nails dig into his skin, Raoul winces and tries to remove the pain, no luck.

“A party.” The voice repeats strained.

“Oh. Underground party.”

“Do you remember what you took?”

Raoul remembers. He ate some mints.

“Her friend gave me tic tacs.”

“Her friend,” Erik says slowly.

“Those weren’t tic tacs.”

“No, they were not.” Anger increasing in tone, Raoul wants a witness.

“I—high. I got high.” Raoul says lamely.

“Mm. Hmm.”

“You’re upset.”

“Upset?”

Erik laughs darkly, puts his hand to Raoul’s throat.

“I think, angry, no, fury? No, I don’t think there is a strong enough word for what I’m feeling about this.”

“Understandable.” Raoul deserves the angry parent; he doesn’t fight Erik.

“I **_trusted_** you with **_her_**. You took her god knows where, then got **_high._** All you had to do was stay here. What is so difficult about that?”

“Nothing,” Raoul says quietly.

“Nettles and I are in a rough place when it comes to Marguerite and this doesn’t make it any better. If she finds out about this from anyone else, I could **_lose_** my daughter. I lost her once, and I refuse to lose her again or go through it again.”

“I don’t think any saw—”

Erik squeezes slightly, just enough for Raoul to stop talking.

“Nettles is visiting today, for the weekend. I’ll handle the explaining. If she sees this as a reason to take Meg away again,” Erik brings his masked mouth to Raoul’s ears,” I will kill you.”

Raoul nods.

“I wasn’t lying, I am rather fond of you, but I care for her more than you.”

“I understand.”

Erik removes his hand from Raoul’s throat

“Hm. This marks the end of the trial period, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Raoul says, he touches his throat with his hand.

“Tonight is going to be exciting. Do you have an answer?”

“I do,”

“Tell me at midnight, let’s keep this,”

“Theatrical? Dramatic? You’re a living play.”

“Thank you.”

Meg knocks on the door, Erik turns

“Mother is here, did you want to talk to her?”

Erik rises, and Meg moves out of the way

“Just stay in your room, until we call for you,” He says as he passes, and she nods miserably.

\--

* * *

“You look well,” Toni Giry says. She sets her bag down in their bedroom and looks around, trying to see if anything changed.

“I didn’t do anything to this room,” Erik says, he knows her well.

“I don’t need to see your face, to know that something is troubling you. What is it? What awful thing have you done? Let’s get that out of the way, I’d like to enjoy some of this weekend.”

“Raoul took Marguerite to an illegal underground gathering without my permission.”

“That’s not ideal, did anything happen to her?” Toni looks for the black gloves, if they are out, then something did happen.

“Not to her, no.”

“Well, what is the cause of your drama?”

“No drama, Raoul may have taken an illicit substance that altered his state.”

“Drugs. He got high on drugs, stop trying to make things more poetic."

Erik sighs.

“Fine, yes, high.”

“Did Meg?”

“No.”

“I’d say lock her in the tower, but I’m going to guess that’s why she wanted to go the rave, yes Erik, you can say it too, a rave.”

“Anyway, that’s the so-called drama, darling.”

“Well, I’m going to assume that she is being punished, and that you gave Raoul a proper threat?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there we are then.” Toni spreads her arms wide in exasperation.

“Are we?”

“As long as the situation has been handled and Meg is good health, I have nothing to add.”

He is relieved. She turns around, her back to him, she turns her head.

“Now, can you help me out of this damn dress? It’s the only one I have in the style, so don’t you dare destroy this, have some sense.”

Erik eagerly comes forward and helps his wifey out of her clothing.

\--

* * *

As soon as the clock changes to midnight, he appears. Raoul nearly jumps out of his skin. He is truly a wizard.

“Well?”

Erik checks out his gloved fingers, trying to keep his emotions in check, to not appear desperate, or concerned, as if this decision mattered or even meant something.

“I have an opening for a serious romantic lead,” Raoul says, he feels like an idiot.

“Serious romantic lead? That’s what we’re calling it?” Erik is amused, that is a s good sign. Raoul feels slightly less uncomfortable.

“If you’re interested in the role, it’s yours, the uh, director is impressed with your screen test.” Raoul feels stupid again

“I’ve never had It put to me this way before. So, you trust me, don’t feel manipulated, or that I am, what did you say? Psychotic?”

“I think you’re downright terror inspiring when you want to be, but I don’t think you’ve manipulated my emotions, and as long as you don’t revert back to dominatrix roles, we’re cool?”

Erik places his hand over his heart,” I promise, I won’t play that role as long as we’re romantic leads,”

“And can I see the other hand?”

“Ah, so trusting,” Erik raises his hand, Raoul sighs with relief.

“You have to be nicer to Meri,”

“Nicer? Did he say something?”

“You slapped him, I know he annoyed you, but he’s important to me.”

Erik feels his own relief, if Raoul doesn’t know the details of a certain dinner date, things will be good.

“I can try.”

“Thank you.”

\--

* * *

The next morning Toni corners Raoul, she presses a large thick book into his chest.

“Read this.”

He looks down.

“I’m not asking. It’s Denny’s diary. You will find the information useful. He was the last. I cared for him,” Raoul can see that this is difficult for Toni, she looks like vulnerable human female, instead of the severe stone creature he’s used to.

“Thank you,”

“This isn’t a kindness; you deserve to know what you’re putting yourself into.” She takes a step back.

“When you dance with him, you **_will_** be burned. I have accepted it. I have no regrets on our years together and come what may in our future stories, but it is not simply holding hands and taking on the world. This is a real relationship. You will hate him, and he will hate you, but that is what love does, you feel **_everything_**. You’re a babe just coming out of the woods, and I know the world is still magical to your fairy eyes, hold on to that.”

She takes Raoul’s hand and squeezes it.

“Read Denny’s diary. **_Do not_** let Erik know about it. The diary is honest, Erik doesn’t always appreciate honesty.”

“I will.”

“Denny was very important to me, to Meg. She—when you find out, don’t tell her. She will—do not tell her. It’s for the best she thinks he simply went away.”

Raoul looks at the diary, that familiar cold fear rises again.

“I-promise.”

“This is between the three of us, you, me, Denny.”

Raoul nods.

Toni lets his hands go.

“I’m not trying to be cruel or change your mind about him or your choice. You deserve to know the kind of creature he is.”

Toni leaves him.

Raoul finds a hidden place, he closes the door, locks it and settles into the chair.

He sighs, inhales, exhales. He opens the diary.

\--

* * *

Raoul looks both ways before going into the kitchen.

“What are you doing, Leto?”

Raoul jumps.

“I’m pretending I’m being chased by a robber,” he says lamely.

“Here.”

Erik hands him several pieces of paper.

“What are these?”

“My demands for the upcoming season.”

“That’s a lot of demands.”

“I care a lot.”

Raoul nods.

“Erik, why is Christine in the lead for everything? She doesn’t have much of a stage presence, I was thinking of Sorelli—”

“If you want to prevent certain calamities, she will be the lead.”

“Uh huh, I just-“

“This isn’t a debate.”

“Her vocal presence,”

“Is stronger, trust me.”

“I’ll have her audition like everyone else.”

“Leto, I’m not—”

“I have to get back to the office and go over this with Reyer.”

“What?”

“He’s my business partner too, I trust his input, we’ll discuss your suggestions.”

Erik clenches and unclenches his fists.

“Discuss my suggestions,” Erik repeats, and Raoul nods. He flips through the papers.

“I can’t guarantee everything,” Raoul walks off.

Erik glares at the space Raoul had occupied.

_This will simply not do._


	26. Things Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Phantom comes out to play a bit..

* * *

* * *

Reyer is about to leave his small office when it is closed by a gloved hand from behind. Reyer screams and lowers himself to the floor. He’s roughly brought to a standing position and pulled backwards and forced into the chair opposite of his desk

Erik takes the seat on the other side. Reyer is not used to being in the guest chair. He does not like it. It is his own office, but he knows better than to point out such facts

“I need something from you.”

“Like my kidneys?”

Erik moves his hand to an object, intending to throw it, but stops, he folds his hands together and places them in front of him on the desk.

“I need you to convince Raoul to do something.”

“Why can’t you? I’m sure you have ways of **_persuasion_**.”

“Normally, if I wanted something and a manager refuses, I would use certain tactics.”

“Threats of murder and murder.”

“Yes, and considering our personal relationship, I cannot bring myself to do that, not to him. So, this is where your part comes in.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“I need you to convince Raoul to cast Christine in the lead for the next production.”

“Christine is usually in the featuring. She’s a good support.”

“I need you to put her in the **_lead_** role.”

“Raoul doesn’t agree?”

“He wants her to audition, I disagree. I think she’s perfect.”

“Okay, so what? You want me to tell him to just sign on her on?”

“Yes.”

“And if I think she should audition like everyone else?”

Erik moves fast, and before Reyer knows he is happening, he’s behind him, his hands on his chest, moving up to his throat.

“I don’t like you or your influence on my Jules or Leto, and if you don’t do this, I will break you,” The Phantom leans into Reyer’s ears and then rests against his neck.

“I still have power of Jules, and my hold over Raoul is growing stronger, do you really want to incur my wrath? They **_will_** choose **_me_** , and you will be **_forgotten_**.”

“Christine should be the lead,” The Phantom pats Reyer’s cheek before kissing him neck.

“Good boy.” He scratches behind his ears, and the digs throw his pocket and throws something on the desk.

“Here, you earned a treat.” He runs his gloved fingers through his Reyer’s hair.

Reyer shudders, and The Phantom is shaken off and Erik rolls his shoulders, and he blows a kiss before he blends back into the shadows.

\--

* * *

Raoul considers ordering takeout. He forgot to bring lunch, which is something he normally plans the night before, so his day is already off to no good.

He rummages through his desk to find a menu.

“Looking for something?”

“A menu,” Raoul says, he sighs and leans back in his chair. He’ll probably just settle for coffee, it’s the closest option.

“I brought provisions.”

Raoul opens his eyes; Erik is setting up his desk for a little picnic. He moves papers, and things to the side of the floor and sets out a small tablecloth, he sets down wine glasses, a Tupperware containing food.

“It’s like an office picnic,” Raoul is **_really_** hungry and is finding it hard not to dive in. Erik slaps his hand away, he’s not finished.

“Now, you may tuck in,” Erik sits down, and Raoul wastes no time.

“The English have such manners,” Erik turns his head, to avoid watching Raoul devour the food

“Soweh.”

Erik clenches and unclenches his fist, shakes his head.

“This is a lunch date,” Raoul did not have a lunch date before.

“Yes,” Erik leans forward and takes a glass.

“How can you drink with your mask on?”

“The lips on this one is slightly parted,” Erik demonstrates by sipping, and sure enough, no mess, no muss, no fuss.

“Oh, nifty. Are you going to eat?” He gestures to the spread. Erik waves his hand.

“I’m not hungry. I don’t need to eat much, **_maybe_** once a day,” He is content with his wine.

“How does that work out? Humans need so many calories."

“Yes.”

“Do different rules exist for you?”

“Obviously.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not trying to be abrasive, but your incessant need to prattle is niggling. Can you be silent for a minute?”

Raoul sits in silence, he is no longer hungry and starts to put the food away, he takes out some papers and goes over them.

Erik sighs and tries a new tactic.

He leans forward, grabs Raoul’s tie and pulls him over the desk and towards him.

“I didn’t mean that,” he uses his free hand to caresses and then pulls him towards his mouth, masks slightly tilted up.

“Forgive my acrid tongue,” Raoul is sure he is pouting. Raoul nods. Erik pulls him close and kisses him again.

“This is our debut as a proper couple, we should do something special.”

Raoul nods, he’s not sure what they should do though.

“Tonight, is the final performance of this production, we could watch it together in your box?”

“We can do that yes,” Erik releases him.

“I have some things to take care of before then,” slips off into the shadows. Reyer chooses that moment to enter.

“Hungry?” Reyer looks at the spread, sits down and digs in.

“Have you thought about leads for the next production,” Reyer asks

“Not really no, we haven’t finished the current one.” Raoul is trying to read Reyer’s face. Something is off.

“Have you thought about Christine Daae?”

“What about her?”

“She could be a dark horse.”

“Okay, and?”

“We should have her in the lead in the next production.”

“Preferential treatment nearly poisoned this company. I’m not following in the footsteps of previous managers and their mistakes, if she wants the role, she has every chance to try out for it as everyone else.”

“I think you should reconsider.”

Raoul looks, really look at the man across from him. His seen him wear that face before.

“Something happened again.” Raoul says.

“No,”

“You have That Look again, and you I know you agree with me on auditions.”

“I think in this case,”

“ ** _Erik_** wanted her for the lead, did he ask you to do this?”

“I- He-no-“

“Because I’m telling you the same thing, she wants the role? She can audition, why is this such a difficult concept? Do we want to rise up another terror?” Raoul shakes his head.

“And I’m surprised at you Reyer, you know better than that.”

“Raoul, I’m the **_stage_** manager. I know the players better than you, I’ve been with them for five years, I know what they are capable of, Christine is too good for feature roles and the ballet rats.”

Reyer is using his Adult, I Got This Voice. Raoul digests his words.

“Is this something **_you_** believe ** _?”_**

_No, I just don’t want either of us to die._

Reyer scoffs, but he nods, his face stern.

“Fine, fine. I will take your word for it. Sorry, Erik gave me a novel of demands, and they also mentioned Christine, but if this is your honest opinion, fine, I trust you.”

“Thank you,”

\--

* * *

Reyer sneaks back into his office, goes to his desk, rests his head onto his folder arms.

He looks up as something lands on his desk, a package cookie, with a note, ‘good boy,’

Reyer picks up the cookie and throws it away.

\--

* * *

When Erik arrives to the Box Five later that evening he’s surprised, and at a loss for words, there is a steak dinner waiting for him. Raoul holds up wine glasses.

“Dinner and a theatre,” Raoul says. Erik takes a glass and sits down next to him.

“Well, this is unexpected, a good kind of, thank you.”

“I know you get weird about food, so for you, we have a few bottles of wine, and this bottle is supposed to be from Normandy, so,” Raul shrugs.

“Really?”

“Ooh, it’s starting.”

Raoul turned his attention to the stage, his concentration was tested however, by Erik’s efforts to show appreciation.

\--

* * *

Raoul settles into a private room, he has the door locked, blocked, and he has a bottle of wine and gin by his side, he opens the diary.

_So, Lester, you will not believe the day I’ve had. That guy I told you about? I say ‘guy’ but he/it is so much more than/beyond us puny primitive humans._

_I cannot get over his masks._

Raoul pauses, he looks at the door, just to make sure he is safe to keep reading.

_His attentions are flattering, and Toni told me that we had similar interests. I’m sure not why she’s pushing this, but one date can’t hurt, right?_

“Oh poor, Denny,” Raoul says as he takes a sip of wine.


	27. Denny Says Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about Denny and get a new perspective on Erik
> 
> (I wasn't going to post this today, but I have no job, and no home--moved back with the parentals, so fuck it, enjoy!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs of the chapter:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_Pj32HujgQ&list=RDMMp21YfobjaVA&index=3
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikGfHjrtSVk&list=RDMMp21YfobjaVA&index=4
> 
> Mask inspiration:  
> https://emeliebergqvist.files.wordpress.com/2012/05/2010-11-18_af876e174eb2c2bbed01c577fb7b88.jpg?w=497&h=658

* * *

* * *

* * *

_I came to France because my school had an internship program where I could take up residency at a hospital in a different country, and the hospital I applied to accepted me. I was given room and board, I had to pay a stipend each month, but it was cheap compared to my friends._

_The doctor I reported to worked something out so I could have more hands on and an intimate approach to nursing. I was to live with the Giry’s and take care of the wife, she was pregnant and bedridden. I believe that it had something to do with the fetal position, I don’t remember._

_At first it was typical. I woke up, I checked in with the wife, she refused to be bathed by me, she only needed help to the bathroom, she took care of her bathing and bathroom needs, then I would escort her back to bed._

_I took her breakfast order, and I would bring her the meal. I brought her the newspaper, and moved in the television, each morning, so she could watch the news and her stories._

_She would help me with my French, tell me stories about her tenure as a dancer, She feared that this child would curse her, keep her from returning to dance. It was very important that she remain a dancer._

_She told me that’s how she met her husband, she was traveling the world to learn about dancing from all the cultures she could encounter._

_They met in some Northern African country, the timing she is uncertain of, because she’s been to so many places._

_“He was so damn **loud**. I could not ignore him, and I tried, Denny believe me.”_

_“Was he loud because of his personality? Or because he was yelly?”_

_“When you meet him, you’ll understand what I mean.”_

_They met when she was 22, and he was 17. She didn’t know his age at the time, but they met up again by chance a year later in France._

_“It had to have meant something to see him again, life is not coincidence,” she told me._

_They married just shy of her husband’s 19 th birthday and now here we are, she’s 24 to his 19, and she’s preparing for their first child._

_“Erik is different, remember that, he comes home today. He’s an unusual man.”_

_I’ve met strange people in my short life, so I figured, sure, why not, add another name to the weird list. Looking back now, that was an understatement._

_Erik is not unusual._

_Erik is the Devil, and I do not mean that as playful jest to describe his ways, I honestly believe in my heart, my head, and sound mind, that he is just that, the Devil, Lucifer, whatever name that you choose to use._

_He is cruel, kind, handsome, ugly, tempting, insane, pathetic, pitiful, grotesque, beautiful, scornful, merciful, heartless._

_Everything, in a word._

_He is the master of time, of space, of me, you, everyone. He does not need a grand show to mesmerize you, just a snap of his fingers, five words, sometimes less._

_His voice will dominate you._

_Take you over._

_You’ll dive under, drown in his songs, melodies, lullabies._

_His voice is intoxicating. You want to bathe in it, drink it, drown, and you will drown. He's the greatest puppet master that has ever lived, that will ever live._

_He is a drug. You will need, want, crave him, cannot live without him._

_You are a player in his play, and if he wills it, you will cease. Nevermore, never was. I cannot tell you how many have left this house, only to never be remembered._

_I don’t know why I do._

_It is frightening._

_I’ve started the practice of locking my bedroom door at night. It’s just a silly inane action on my part, I still invite him in, that’s the only reason he hasn’t taken my lock away, because knows I will always let him in._

_I won’t dare to write down he’s done with my crucifix_

_I’m writing down my thoughts, my story for those we come after, because I know that there will come a time where I leave this house, only to be forgotten._

_The first night with Erik. I don’t know where to begin. It’s just so choppy, my memories. It was a long time coming._

_Toni kept pushing me to have dinner with him, that it was okay, what she wanted, Erik was lonely, that he was starved for attention, and it was getting to him, that as a sexual creature, their situation was detrimental to his mental and emotional state._

_“Bullshit.”_

_Toni slapped me._

_“I’ve time no for games, as you well know.”_

_Toni was not someone who catered to man children, that I knew. So, I didn’t understand her position in this instance._

_“Erik is not like men. There are different rules for Erik. Learn them, know them. It will save you.”_

_So only at her insistence did I agree to that first date. I didn’t know what to do, she told me to prepare a meal for him, so that it would be a surprise when he came home._

_I liked steak, so I prepared a steak dinner. A side salad of greens and random vegetables, ice cream for dessert. I’m not a fancy chef, and that’s what I would order at a restaurant and what I would normally prepare at home when I could afford to purchase a steak._

_He came home, he expressed gratitude and joined._

_“You did this? You wanted to do this?” He didn’t sit down at first, he waited for my answer. I nodded. He took a seat, he reached for the wine and nothing._

_I waited for him to tuck in. He didn’t._

_I waited for him to take off his mask, clearly he could not eat, his entire face is covered by that porcelain face._

_Nothing, he casual sips his wine, and nothing. He does not acknowledge the plate._

_“Should we pray?” I asked, perhaps he is the religious sort, and they do not eat until proper respects are paid to their god. He shakes his head._

_“Tuck in,” he sips more wine._

_I’m about to throw my plate to the floor._

_“It’s not an art concept Erik,” I cannot hide my annoyance._

_“I know,” he still does not take up a fork. I pick up my plate and leave for the other room. If I’m to dine alone, then at least it would at my enjoyment._

_I turn on the television and switch it to a sport channel, something mindless that does not require great thought. I don’t remember him following me, but he’s on the sofa next to me when I take notice of the world._

_“I don’t eat much, it smells lovely.”_

_“Not to self, do not cook for Erik. Ever.”_

_“I-appreciate it.”_

_“Uh huh.”_

_I did not believe him, and turned the volume on louder, I was determined to be rude._

_“The wine is good,” he says lamely._

_“Yup.”_

_I try to put him out of my thoughts, not easy to do when he is sitting next to me._

_“Nettles—Toni, should have told you; I don’t eat more than maybe four times a week?”_

_I want him to go away._

_“Bully for you.”_

_I lean forward, hoping he gets the point. I hear him sigh, I do not feel him leave or return, I look because I smell the food, he brought the plate, and is awkwardly, tentatively eating, as if he will be in great pain if he consumes. He looks pathetic._

_“Stop. You don’t have to do this.”_

_“This could have gone—”_

_“Better?”_

_He nods_

_“Not the worst first date. The worst first date involved the beach, snorkeling and a jellyfish.”_

_“You had to micturate.”_

_I had no idea what that meant._

(“Me either Denny,” Raoul shakes his head and drinks more wine)

_“Piss.”_

_“Uh, yeah, and then you’d think that would give us solid foundation, after all that closeness. She didn’t call back and I have a scar.”_

_“Lovely.”_

_“Okay. So for attempt number two, why not a carnival or a circus? I like those.”_

_“A circus?”_

_I nod._

_“I love those, my mom was in a circus, did a lot of acrobatic arial tricks, but she met my dad, they had sex and I happened. So, she gave up the circus and ended up teaching dance to psychotic children and their mothers.”_

_“I was a part of a gypsy traveling group. Not quite a circus.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“I sang and performed magic tricks and ventriloquism.”_

_“Gross! Pedophiles and their puppets. Not a fan.”_

_“I was **nine**. I didn’t go after children, and it wouldn’t have been pedophilia.”_

_“But the puppets, gotta admit, shoving your hand up their backside and forcing them to speak? The words you want them to speak?”_

_“I’ve never thought of it that way,”_

_“Well you should, because that is what you’re doing.”_

_“No.”_

_“We just have to agree to disagree.”_

_I can tell he was not happy with my views. It’s fun to annoy him, I don’t know what it was, but annoying Erik became a game later._

_“I know of a circus we could attend this weekend, for attempt number two,”_

_“Great,”_

_Date number two went so much better. We met up on the grounds and I couldn’t help but be amused at his dramatic dress. He will never be a jeans and jumper man._

_The tuxedo is the most subdued outfit he owns. The simplest. Black and white, not stupid tail split, that some do, and his mask? Like a ying/yang dream. Half Black, half white, whole. Cover the entire face yet again._

_What is he trying hide? Or is he just an eccentric that really likes to take mystery and allure to the nth degree? It is a conversation piece and makes him the prettiest one at the party._

_We played games, saw some of the shows, I enjoyed the novelty food, he drank alcohol and politely declined all attempts to get him to consume something not beer or wine related._

_“My mother tried to force feed me as a child, she made enough to feed an army or two, she would force my mouth open,” He did not have many happy childhood memories._

_“Did you have a dog?”_

_He nodded._

_“Sasha. I loved her.”_

_“There you go, feed it to Sasha.”_

_“I did.”_

_“Problem solved.”_

_“At that time, yes.”_

_“So, your mother sucked. Had anyone in your time at home you liked?”_

_“Marie. She was lovely. She hated spiders. I would catch them and put them on her dress.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“She made delicious sounds.”_

_I must have made a face or some kind of response, he closed himself off after that._

_“I understand and appreciate misunderstood creatures,” he says quietly._

_“Well, if I ever see a spider in the house, I’ll let you know and then do my best to avoid you.” I try to make it sound like a joke, a good jest. He just nods and remains quiet._

_“I don’t know many nineteen-year olds who dress so dapper as yourself.”_

_“I’m not like most.” He took offense to my words. I think he wanted to hit me._

(“Been there,” Raul laughs.)

_“I’m getting that impression. Last place you’ve lived?”_

_“Persia—Iran.”_

_“How was that?”_

_“Bloody.”_

_“The political stuff?”_

_“Different political stuff.”_

_“Digging the vague.”_

_“If I told you my entire life story today, we’d have nothing to discuss tomorrow.”_

_He walks faster._

_“I-point taken. Touché. Point for Erik,” I work to catch up. As the night drew to its end he escorted me back to my car, I insisted we drove separately. I was going to spend the night at a friend’s lodging._

_We stood there for a few minutes. I felt kind of stupid. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I kept trying to think of how to hold myself, should I be in a cool posture? Should I come up with some clever witticism worthy of my favorite romantic heroes?_

_I turn to him to speak, but he leans in, I assume to kiss me, so I lean over, into him, feeling stupid, with my eyes closed and mouth ready to receive lips, but nothing._

_He pulls something from my hair, a silver dot, a sequin. He shows me._

_“Look, I caught your moonlight.”_

_Yup._

_That is when I knew I could fall in love with him._

Raoul closes the diary.

“That’s enough for today.”

_\--_

* * *

_  
_Meg opens the fridge, it takes a second for her to process the nightmare.

Brown.

Furry.

Ginormous.

Monthra

Hellacious beast of her nightmares.

She does not scream, she unleashes a cry of terror, of panic, that awakes the old gods.

She curls into a heap onto the floor and her body convulses.

Erik is at her side as soon as he can, he assesses her body for any sort of damage or trauma. He pulls her into his protective embrace.

Raoul and Toni are next. Toni does the same, intense parental check. Instead of speaking, Meg raises her hand and points, jabs the air, and her parents turn to the direction her hand gestures.

Toni curses in French, and Raoul does all he can not to laugh awkwardly. The spider is fake, he put it there to screw with/play with Erik.

He forgot that other people live in the house.

“Um, it’s not real,” Raoul says, his through an apologetic smile.

Toni and Meg slowly look at him, they are not amused, both intensely fear spiders.

“A practical joke?” Erik asks. Raoul nods.

“I thought, you’d think it was funny,” he rubs the back of his head.

“Hilarious,” Toni snaps. Meg sends him the most glare of glares.

“Would not the liquor or wine cabinet be more appropriate, if I were the intended target?”

Raoul nods.

“Hindsight, yes.”

“If that thing is real,” Toni starts. Raoul rushes to the fridge and shakes it up and down.

“Totally fake, got it on the Halloween shop.”

“I need wine,” Toni gets up, and hits Raoul in the shoulder as she passes.

“Sloth videos.”

Meg leaves in a hurry, avoiding Raoul.

“I can appreciate that,” Erik says.

“Now I know, wine cabinet.”

“Now that you’ve said that, I’ll have to set up precautions,” Erik says,

“But will they work?”

Raoul ‘ooooohs,’ and walks backwards out of the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my house we call spiders, Monthra, you know the giant insect creature wasp moth? and yes, I know spiders are not insects, it's they are ginormous like monrtha....


	28. Reyer In A Car At the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyer is in the car at the party. Raoul is not sure about Jules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reference material:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYA_v25hDX4  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfe91Ah4N90  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JM8KJRVcofA  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jzlSeFLr7A

* * *

* * *

The dial for the volume is turned. Reyer closes his eyes and shakes his head and moves his body forward and back harshly. He gets lost into the song, ‘ _Michael In the Bathroom_ ,”

_“Clang, Clang, Clang,”_

The door opens and slams shut. Reyer screams and Raoul waves at him.

“What are you doing?” He presses the button and the radio is shut off.

“This is the traditional end of the current production party, there’s liquid libations, cupcake provisions, and you’re sitting inside your car in my driveway, for what reason?” Raoul asks, he's ready to bunker down.

“I just needed to ugly cry by myself, so can you get out of my car please?” Reyer is ready to drive off a cliff.

“Can’t let you do that. There are shrimps on a tray that are severely under eaten.” Raoul says, emphasis on severe.

Raoul is not going anywhere.

“Poor shrimps. I need to be alone, so I can get through this.” Reyer tries to focus ahead of him, hands gripping wheel tightly. White knuckles.

“Get through it with me sitting here.” Raoul is not leaving, or giving off indication it will be soon.

“That’s not how it works, you need to go, so I can do this.” Reyer still does not want to look at the other man, he closes his eyes.

“No. My house, my rules.” Raoul shakes his head

“Raoul.” Reyer turns to him, finally.

“Mercier Reyer.” Raoul looks directly into his eyes.

“Oh, we’re using the full names.” Reyer turns away

“You drove us there.” Raoul waves his hands.

“Fine. I’ll leave the car and find a different place to be sad and pathetic.” He unbuckles the seatbelt.

Reyer gets out of the Raoul and follows suit. Reyer tries to ignore him and walk past him, but Raoul grabs him.

“You’ve been weird and distant for three days. And each time I ask, what’s wrong, you just smile and say poetic nonsense. Now tell me what ails you, so I can fix it!” Raoul voice cracks slightly. He tries to recover.

“I’m crazy!” Reyer waves his hands dramatically and exaggerates his speech and affect, Raoul is not impressed and mimics him

“So am I!” Raoul shouts back, people are staring, watching from the windows of his house, but they either don't care or cannot see them.

“It’s not the same!” Reyer's voice cracks a bit.

“It is!” Raoul shakes his head and arms.

“I will destroy you!” Reyer hits his chest and then pushes Raoul away

“What are you talking about?” Raoul says, on the edge of over it.

“I’m literal poison, I will break you, hurt you, destroy you! Walk away, fly away, little month.” Reyer walks backwards.

“You’re not poison, you’re a manic depressive.” Raoul's voice and tone, softer, gentler.

“I’m sick.” Reyer voice is almost a whisper.

“I know. I don’t care, in the sense, It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Raoul is on the verge of hysterics.

“It should!” Reyer grabs his head, he cannot understand Raoul, or why he keeps around. He's about to sit on the ground and die.

“No.” Raoul stands his ground.

“Raoul.” Reyer whispers.

“Look, you stupid bastard, you don’t get to waltz into someone’s life, make them care, force them to like duets to the point they start to kind of actually liking them, finally having conversations with another human person when it was always just yourself with your head, and then go off, and say, just kidding, leaving now!” Raoul waves bye, bye, bye like an aggressive *NSYNC cover.

“Raoul.”

“No. I need you. Okay, like I seriously need my best friend, because my life. Is kind of chaotic, chaotic! I don’t know what I’m doing! I am dating, like in a serious relationship and dating, a functional psychotic sociopath. It will probably end badly! I don’t know! But I need you! I need you to tell me, no make it, okay. It’s been two months since my brother last made contact! I don’t know what’s happening with him, this is the longest we’ve not spoken, well, the cult and oh, hey! I just found out that they know where I work and maybe live!” Raoul's arms are spread wide and he's bare and vulnerable.

“Raoul.” Reyer's voice is gentle like a feather.

“So, you don’t get to just walk away!” Raoul voice cracks again.

“I don’t think Erik’s a sociopath if they have the capability to form honest personal relationships.” Reyer says very matter of factly.

“ ** _That’s_** your takeaway?”

Raoul double takes.

“They?”

“It’s just what stood out. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

Reyer stomach dropped from his body. He has never had someone ask him to stay.

“Raoul.”

“I need my person.”

“Raoul.”

“I choose you. I’ll always choose you, that’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t? That someone shiny or new will replace you? No. You, I choose you, I’d say pikachu, but I always choose the fire based pokemon, even though you fight the water bastards first. The fire ones have the better evos and you don’t get an Evie yet at that point, which I mean, an army of them, unstoppable.”

“That is correct.”

“Are you going to be Meri at the party?”

“I don’t know. I’m not good at them.”

“We’ll stay together and sing, _I want to dance with somebody,”_

_“Don’t toy with my emotions.”_

“I have the album.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You hate duets.”

“I want you to stay, you mean more.”

“I feel like the prettiest girl at the dance and the crush checked yes.”

“No romance, but yes.”

“You said you’d choose me.”

Raoul nods,

“Every time.”

“Me.”

“Do you need me to record it so you can hear it at night before you sleep? Give me your phone.”

He holds out his hand, and beckons impatiently. He hands Raoul his phone.

“I. Raoul de Chagny of sound mind, choose Meri Reyer, always, as my person, forever, always, and we’ll be friends in hell, until then we keep it hot alive.”

He hands the phone back.

“I really needed this.”

“So, can we go inside? To the party? I have a doughnut station, and when I left, Sorelli and Meg were giving it some dangerous looks, I really want to get my fat on with my doughnuts.”

Reyer nods.

“I wanted one for the reception, but Jules thinks it would be better to stick with the simple cake.”

“Fuck that noise, demand the doughnut station. It’s your wedding too.”

They walk up the driveway towards the house.

“I don’t like arguing with Jules, he’s paying for it all.”

“Half your wedding, should reflect you too. Demand the doughnuts!”

“I guess we could revisit it.”

\--

* * *

Raoul and Reyer are hiding in the kitchen sitting on the floor, with plates of doughnuts topped with happiness.

“Candy corns look like tiny traffic cones.” Reyer says, he shows off the candy before he bites the tip off, more like tears.

“You have a dream where you’re a doughnut and you eat yourself?” Raoul asks, his mouth full of doughnut.

“Wouldn’t even question it.” Reyer carefully bites the doughnut, trying to be more gentle.

“It’s cool to find someone else who’s seen the show, harder to find today.” Raoul says, his mouth without doughnut.

“Troy and Abed in the morning!” They say together.

“Happy October 19th!” Raoul says and high fives Reyer.

“When a little girl finds her puppy,” Reyer says

They say together:

“That’s October 19th!”

“October 19th isn’t a date, it’s a state of being!” Raoul is filled with excited, he almost dances as he speaks.

“Camera pose!” Reyer orders.

They pose for a nonexistent television camera.

“Jules hates Community, and comics. I have to hide mine.” Reyer shakes his head.

“I live alone so I don’t have to hide anything. Want to trade some issues?”

“I’ll give you my fear of spiders for the ability to sleep with uncovered mirrors.” Reyer says seriously.

“I’m kind of afraid of mirrors, so I do cover them at night. But I’ll trade you the spider fear, for being able to be around water. In general.” Raoul offers, he's serious too.

“Not afraid of water. So, what, you take my spiders and I’m afraid of water now?” Reyer asks, trying to get the clear crystal.

“Yes?” Raoul says, trying not to be confused

“Cool.” Reyer says.

Raoul nods.

“Still kind of confused, but I think I get it.” Reyer says, eats more candy corn.

“I’m afraid of spiders now, you’re not. And you took my fear of water.” Raoul says.

“Okay.” Reyer says, sort of getting it.

They are quiet for another minute, when Reyer suddenly:

“Let’s try something. _Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight, someone is thinking of me and loving me tonight,”_

 _“Uh, and even though I know how very far a part we are, it helps to think we might be wishing upon the same bright star?”_ Raoul doesn't know if he remembers the lyrics

_“And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby,” Reyer exactment increases with each lyric._

_“It helps to think we’re under the same big sky.”_ Raoul sings back, feeling a bit better, and trying to get comfortable

 _“Somewhere out there if love can see us through, then we’ll be together, somewhere out there, out where dreams come true_.” They both sing this part.

“Underrated movie.” Reyer says.

“I have it somewhere.” Raoul nods.

“We should watch it.” Reyer says a bit too fast. Raoul waves it off, not tonight. No, not tonight.

“Later, still got to deal with stupid party I’m hosting.” Raoul exhales, he picks at his plate a bit more.

“I’m surprised Erik didn’t come?” Reyer tries to not sound terrified as he says **_his_ **name.

Raoul pulls out his phone.

“This is his response: Normally, I would, but I have things to take care of tonight.”

Raoul puts the phone.

“I mean, I’m summing up what he said, because he wrote a novel. Lesson learned, do not text Erik. He writes these Shakspearian monologues. Yes, or no, would have sufficed!” Raoul half laughs, he shakes his head.

“I don’t intend to communicate with him ever, outside of the opera house.” Reyer shudders.

“Isn’t he _in_ your wedding?”

“Don’t remind me! Jules basically is planning it with him.” Reyer bangs his head against the counter behind his head, he curses himself.

“But it’s _your_ wedding. With Jules. Why is Erik helping plan it?”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“It’s your day, with Jules. You two need to come together, and then get on the doughnuts.”

Reyer phone goes off.

“It’s Jules. He knows.”

“What?”

Reyer tap, tap, tap, texts. He sighs and moves and stands up.

“Jules wants me home; he doesn’t like for me to drive at night.”

“You can stay the night if you want?”

“It’s better if I just go.”

“Okay,”

As Reyer leaves Raoul wave him.

\--

* * *

Raoul sits behind his desk in deep thought, He’s pondering many pondering thoughts. Erik is enjoying the silence as he casually drinks his lunch.

“Let’s do one of those dumb double dates. Jules and Meri.” Raoul says, his eyes bright, sudden inspiration.

“If you like,” Erik pours more wine.

“Oh yeah, gotta look out for my person.” Raoul nods.

“That sweet, but I don’t want Jules at the moment.” Erik leans back and, adjusting to a comfortable position.

Raoul ignores that and puts away the office picnic.

“Preferably where I know the exits. Neutral.” Raoul considers the places.

“I can set something—”

“My house! Hire a staff. Done!” Zip, zap, zop, bam! Raoul is getting very into this plan. 

“You said the guest room was a single.” Erik lifts his head in annoyance.

“Yeah.” Raoul says as if this were obvious and, what's the point, sir.

“Do you see the problem there, Leto.” Expert Adorable Erik Head Tilt, wine expertly handled, no splashing or swishing.

“We’re not eating in the guest room, and now that I’ve said that out loud, I see your point. No, the new bed arrived two days ago, and I’ve been using it when I’m home. No more allergies.”

“You’ll need to change the guest room; Jules hates night driving and he will not get in a cab or an Uber.” Erik half laughs.

“I can bring down something from the attic. How come every time you speak it sounds like a melody? Do you not know how to simply speak like a human person?” Raoul has always wanted to talk about this, but never thought they were in the position to do so, now feels right.

“You don’t like how I speak?” Erik asks, it also comes across somewhat threatening, and sends shivers Raoul's way.

“I do like it. Rather enjoy it, really. I’m just now more aware of you and your youness.” Raoul says this waving his hands, he stares at his hands, he wonders if he uses his hands too much, and if Erik or anyone has noticed this. He places his hands on the desk.

“This is how I articulate.” Erik says-sings-melodies.

“There it is! Never change.” Raoul says, his hand is up, active again, he curses and slams it on the desk.

“Not for anyone.” Erik watches his him, Raoul moves his hands from the desk to his lap and smiles awkwardly.

“Also, quick thing. Doughnuts.” He says the last word very seriously.

“Doughnuts.” Erik repeats unsure.

“Love how you sang that, and that needs to be a thing at the wedding. You seem to have pull there, Doughnut station. Need that.” Raoul tries the sing-song way and regrets it. He taps his throat and shakes it off.

“I—may be able to persuade Jules to reconsider that issue.” Erik says this awkwardly, slowly, his body visibly in discomfort, as he speaks.

“Excellent.” Raoul is happy to hear this and his contentment shines through. He starts to drool over the delicious possibilities. Bacon, and doughnuts, and happiness. Erik throws a towel his way.

“Yes.” Erik has other ideas.

Reyer enters, and then decides to leave.

“Hey! Guess what you’re doing tonight,” Raoul says very excited.

“Tonight?” Reyer is unsure and afraid. He wants to leave and thinks of an excuse to do so.

“Yes, tonight?” Erik is not happy. Raoul turns to Erik. Erik did not expect this to be so sudden, so soon, so now. He could have had his own plans. Erik only likes last minute, spontaneous plans, when they are his.

“Not enough time to get ready?” Raoul is half joking.

“That’s not a problem, no. Nettles left today so, Meg will need someone to look after her, she clearly cannot be trusted on her own.” Erik says the last bit snappishly and Raoul can feel heat the from those golden freaky, freaky eyes.

“Anyway, tonight, Jules, you, me, this guy, dinner at mine!” Raoul says quite happily in a strange glee.

“Meg cannot be left alone.” Erik exhales annoyed.

“Bring Meg!” Reyer says way too enthusiastically.

“I don’t bring my progeny with me on romantic occasions.” Erik says coolly.

“Christine could look out for her. She did that before.” Raoul suggests.

“No. That would be in a word, maladroit.” Erik says slowly.

“There he is! Hello, That Guy! Came to the party after all.” Raoul waves dramatically at Erik.

Erik drink his wine.

“Oh, damn. Guess we can’t tonight,” Reyer does not hide his lack of disappointment.

“Meg can stay upstairs; I have two other spare rooms. I will have the bigger one made up for Meri and Jules, and Meg can take the smaller room. She keeps to herself, and she is not left at home alone." Raoul says, he gives a double thumbs up.

“That may work.” Erik sighs, he drinks more wine.

“So, there are then! Dinner date! Double dinner date!” Raoul is very happy about this, he does not read the room properly.

“This is a dream come true,” Reyer says.

_At least I will not be alone with Erik for this date._

Reyer flashes a very dead smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original novel, it is pointed out to the reader that Erik did not simply speak, but everything that came from his mouth, was a song. He literally sang everything he said. Everything. He was never off.


	29. Dinner and a Sleepover Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyer, Raoul, Jules, and Erik have a dinner sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just because, this is the style of mask I see Erik rocking, because drama
> 
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/71/c3/ac/71c3ac689f5939a2d1179d03c88304cf.jpg

* * *

* * *

Raoul is surprised and also not surprised, to see Erik arrive at his house early, he is surprised that there was a knock before he suddenly appeared, which is new. Raoul also remembers that he requested that Erik **_wait_** to be let in, however, small steps are being made, so he will not argue or press the issue.

“You’re early by a few hours.” Raoul says he heads to the kitchen, the catering staff will arrive in one hour.

“I came to offer assistance.” Erik looks around.

“You came to help me? I’m hiring professionals to do all the things. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee,”

“Wine.”

“Wine is it. What would Meg like?” Raoul looks around. He does not see her.

“Juice or a carbonated cancer.” Erik is at the bar and looking for glasses, He finds something passable, passes it to Raoul who takes, and pours him some wine.

“Where is your, as you put it, progeny?”

“Upstairs. Exploring.”

“Fantastic.” Raoul pours a double gin for himself.

“Do you have a cleaning staff?” Erik touches some of the furniture, delicately. Raoul nods.

“Comes by twice a week.”

“Twice a week.”

“Why?”

Raoul sits down and Erik hesitates, he remains by the bar.

“You’ve been here before, why are you being so finnicky?” Raoul drinks slowly, he watches Erik, annoyed at his behavior.

“Different eyes. Three times a week would be better.” Erik sips his wine.

“Three, you think?” Raoul is happy with his twice arrangement.

Erik nods.

“Well, when you move in, you can have the cleaning as frequent as you like, until then it’s twice.” Raoul settles this with raising his glass before imbibing in the gin goodness.

“Good to know.”

“Is there a reason why you’re being so closed off and distant? Oh. You came early to break up, didn’t you?”

“What? No, don’t—I mean, no, I’m content with furthering us.”

Erik likes to note, that he is smiling, albeit, awkwardly, and though it cannot be seen, it is genuine. Realizing the, not being able to show off the smile, he moves closer to Raoul in show and attempt to be physically and emotionally closer.

“You say you want this, but your actions are so angry and cold.” Raoul says.

“I’m not angry. If I were, you would know. I’ll try this again.” Erik inhales deeply and forces himself to sit down on the sofa next to Raoul. After a second of not dying, he deems it safe and tries to relax, and leans back. Still not dead, and in perfect health, he exhales and accepts that he will live while seated on the dusty sofa with his romantic lead.

“Thank you.” Raoul swirls the gin around in his glass. Erik is dramatic and everything is extra with him, he needs to adjust to that.

“I came early to discuss certain things.” Erik finds his white gloves of great interest.

“Discuss, what? Oh, god. If you’re telling me about some sort of—”

“Marriage. Jules wanted marriage when we were together.” Erik turns to him slightly.

“Oh.”

Raoul closes his mouth, turns, and listens to the rest.

“Yes. It did not work out, obviously. We, uh, remained close, as we both moved on. Sometimes there is a pull, if you will, that brings us together. When you are with someone for almost eight years—we went through a lot, during our time together. It doesn’t just fade away.” Erik finishes his wine.

“You still have strong feelings for him, and are warning me?” Raoul is picking up what Erik is putting down, Erik nods.

“I wanted to clear the air.” Erik looks down, he has no wine left, Raoul takes the hint, grabs the glass, and plays bartender.

“I’m happy with us, but I did-do still love him.” The gloves again, he finds very interesting. He dares to make quick glances at Raoul.

“If you’re not ready to move on and be in—”

“I am, I’m just being honest with you. I would not have pursued and persisted with you, if I didn’t want you or this.” Erik gestured the two of them. He accepts his refuel and drinks.

“Okay. So, you still love Jules, but you like me and want to keep it going, that’s what you’re saying?” Raoul is trying not to overuse his hands and is very aware that he gestures. He keeps sending shy glances at Erik to see if he is noticing the hands.

Erik nods.

“Understood. Air cleared.”

Thought occurring. Raoul settles back on the sofa.

“Is that why Meri is so nervous around you? He’s just waiting for you the two of you to elope?”

“Something like that.” Erik shrugs.

Raoul can understand that.

“Well, thank you.”

Erik practices breathing and nods.

“That was difficult.”

“I suppose I understand, if I loved someone and it ended, and then I started something, and the first choice was a viable option, I’d probably dump me.”

“I’m **_not_** ending things. I don’t want to end things. That is my point. Despite how it looks, I want to be with you. Jules and I still have the same problems, no matter how attracted we are to each other, we still have the same problems. It will not work. You and I, we have potential.” This time it sounds earnest, serious, that Erik believes he wants this. Raoul feels more confidant now.

“You asked me questions about my past and I also came here early to discuss, what I am ready to elaborate.” Erik says.

“Oh, I’d like to know you.” Raoul gives him his full attention, Erik responds by giving his wine, his mouth’s full attention.

“I ran away from my mother when I was nine. I ended up meeting a gypsy traveling entertainment tribe, I suppose. I stayed with them until I was 11. We used each other. I had talents and skills, and they taught me things. I learned a lot about humans from my time with them.”

Raoul picks up on Erik’s use of, “humans,” as if he views himself, Erik, a separate creature from humanity.

“The first six months they kept me in a cage, once I was able to manipulate my master, and had power, I was able to get my own tent and control what services I provided and what entertainment I brought to the tribe.”

“They kept you in cage?” Raoul asks, voice quiet, he already knew this, but hearing it, makes it real.

Erik nods.

Raoul knows some things he's sure Erik is about to tell him thanks to the diary. Raoul has to keep close eye on his own tongue, so he doesn't betray himself or Denny, or Toni, as she is the one who gave him the diary in the first place. Raoul exhales, and he's got this.

“That’s disgusting, I am so sorry.” He reaches out to him.

“You didn’t do it to me, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Then on the behalf of my fellow humans. I am sorry. That is wrong, and it should not have happened.”

“Your words are pretty but meaningless. You did not wrong me personally, and you have nothing to make amends to or for, Leto.” Erik pats Raoul’s hand, he does not mean to be cold, he just doesn’t understand why Raoul is trying to apologize.

“No one should be forced to live or suffer life a in cage.”

“Do not apologize for those who wronged me.” Erik has accepted his sufferings and the past.

“There are good people, and I wish you met more of them.” Raoul wants to hold Erik sometimes, likes he the puppy who never got the hugs.

“I met you and Nettles.”

“I appreciate your existence.” Raoul says, he moves to the bar, more gin.

“Thank you.”

Erik needs more liquid courage and imbibes.

“The last night I was there, my master, the last pathetic creature that dared to claim ownership of me, tried to take my innocence,” Erik laughs something bitter, dark, humorless,” by force. I disagreed. I gutted him. It was beautiful. Artwork. That is the night I learned; murder can be beautiful too. I took back my power. No one has power over me.”

“He tried to rape you?”

Erik nods.

“He soon found he could only go so far.” Raoul can hear the smirk behind the mask.

“After that I went to Italy for a bit. I met Nettles around then, before that I was in Persia. Persia, that’s for another day.”

“Thank for you this.”

“It’s difficult for me to discuss these things. Meg knows nothing. It’s for the best.”

They sit in silence. Raoul does like it, Erik welcomes. Raoul taps his hand.

“We could fuck around until the catering staff arrives,” instead of a verbal response, Raoul is grabbed and pulled onto Erik’s lap.

“You’re not wearing this to dinner, are you?” Erik gently tugs at Raoul’s shirt.

Raoul frowns, he likes to think he has impeccable fashion sense. He goes to the mall and orders online through Amazon like proper young adults.

“What wrong with this?”

“This weekend I’ll take you where you’ll learn to dress like a proper boy.”

“I dress properly.” Raoul is six again and the prep boys wouldn’t shut up about how he was not going to be at a proper Eton—aaaaaah. All thoughts are then replaced by pleasure and white noise.

\--

* * *

Raoul is upstairs, wearing his stripped boxers and white undershirt. Erik comes back into the room, holding a suit with a tweedy blazer, Raoul backs away from it, as if it’s a foul fiend.

“This is the least offensive thing I could find. What’s wrong with you?” He lays it out on the bed.

“Where did you find that.” Raoul is not okay. He wants to throw holy water on the thing.

“I found it in the wardrobe of the room at the end of the hall.”

Raoul shakes his head.

“That’s his. I don’t want it.” Raoul tries to be as far away from it as he can.

“His?”

“Grandfather.” Raoul wants to set it on fire. The man’s clothing can set him off, that is how pathetic he is. Raoul tries the breathing exercises Reyer taught him.

“Oh. I’m sure I can find something else in yours.” Erik goes to the closet and pushes and pulls back different blazers, coat, suit jackets. He finds simple black slacks, pink collar dress shirt.

“This will suffice for now.”

He hands the outfit to Raoul. Meg runs down the hall, she runs back and stops.

“Am I allowed to eat the food?”

Raoul nods.

“Yes, it’s food. You can have plate.”

Meg salutes and then runs off again.

“The Canadian influence changed her. There’s a lot I have to undo.” Erik says through clenched teeth. He unclenches and clenches his fists and practices his own breathing exercises.

“She’s cool.”

\--

* * *

Reyer immediately heads to the bar as soon as he enters the house. Raoul smiles and follows him, already needed.

“You good?” Raoul whispers. Reyer leans into him.

“Just picking wine to bring became a **_thing_**. Do you like Merlot? Because I like Merlot, but no. no,” Reyer laughs through his teeth,” that is wrong. He chose some bullshit that cost **_400 dollars_**. I wanted to **_die_**.” Reyer drinks vodka from the bottle. Raoul smiles, and gently takes the vodka bottle away, and he goes through the motions of mixing him a proper drink.

“Please don’t leave me in a room alone with him.” Reyer smiles before he downs the drink in one gulp and then hands the empty glass to Raoul.

“I need you to pace car and it’s a dinner, so we’re all eating together at the table, at the same time, in the same room, so no one will be left alone with anyone.” Raoul tends the bar, hands Reyer his drink and watches him closely.

“I can pace car,” he takes baby sips, Raoul nods in approval. Raoul takes Reyer’s arm and leads him to the sofa.

“Sit and enjoy, slowly, the pre-dinner cocktails.” Raoul raises his glass of gin and leans back.

“Give us a tour?” Jules asks, he’s on the other side of the sofa. Raoul looks up and nods and stands.

“Tour, tour, tour.” He opens his arms wide.

“Favorite, the bar and entertainment lounge. I have a wine cellar down the steps, through that door,” he points to a door by the bar itself,” and grandmother had this atrium thing, come on, she was **_obsessed_**.” Jules and Reyer follow Raoul as he leads him to a different part of the house

After wasting about forty minutes of touring, Raoul circles back to the entertainment lounge.

“Dinner should be set up now, we’ll eat through here,” Raoul leads them to the dinning area, and yes, the table is set with food, steak and salad. Raoul is a remarkably simple young rich man, with very simple wants.

As a favor to Reyer though, he did make one odd request: ten red balloons as the centerpiece, with a copy of a certain book as the weight.

“Why would you do this?” Jules wants to punch Raoul, and very much had to resists. He literally almost punched Raoul. He walks away from him and to a seat, to prevent violence.

“I don’t understand your obsession with balloons and cats,” Erik says to Raoul. He doesn’t want to strike him; he just doesn’t understand his lover’s mind sometimes.

“I killed a cat on accident once. There was a lot of blood.” Raoul blinks away the memory.

“Is there a story there?” Erik asks, he half wants to hear it. He wants Raoul to sit down, so he can decide where to sit. He gestures for him to do.

“Later,” Raoul takes the hint, sits across from Jules. Erik sits next to Raoul and Reyer panics, he must sit across from Erik. He stares down at the plate, refusing to look at the masked man.

“I don’t usually pray before food, but I know that both of you came from France, so I’m assuming Catholic?” Raoul says. Jules shakes his head; Erik scoffs and laughs darkly.

“I wasn’t raised religious, and we never spoke before we ate.” Jules says, his voice kind. Reyer’s head is still down, intensely looking at the plate. Jules elbows him to look up.

“We prayed growing up, but I don’t before I eat now.” Reyer says softly. He’s growing paler by the minute.

“I belong to the church of Erik.”

“Well, tuck in everyone!”

They do. Reyer pokes his food, not hungry. Raoul watches him with sadness.

“Meri, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I love the balloons.” He smiles, it doesn’t fit his face.

“Do you do this every night?” Jules asks. Raoul shakes his head.

“I have frozen food, or pizza. Or if I stay at Erik’s, he has food.” Raoul nods to the man next to him. Jules laughs and leans forward.

“Has he let you see him eat yet?” Raoul, leaning forward shakes his head.

“Have you?”

Jules sits up straight.

“I’ll never tell.” He says playfully.

“So, wedding next month! Exciting!” Raoul says, trying to keep the mood light, Reyer to get in a good, better place.

“Oh, it would be if the venue hadn’t called. They lost their license! I have to use my second choice and I’m not getting my money back. I got everything sorted, but that was a headache.” Jules remembers wine exists and drinks from his glass.

“Meri, you didn’t say anything,” Raoul would have helped Reyer through a panic attack if he called. Reyer starts to eat.

“It was handled, everything is fine.” Reyer says, he stares at the balloons like a shark waiting in the shallows.

“I told you.” Erik says smugly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jules waves his hands dismissively.

“Doughnut station though.” Raoul says happily.

“Doughnut station, is that your influence?” Jules is about to stab him.

“What is wrong with a simple cake? Erik, you had cake, right?”

“Nettles likes these tiny tart things. We had a dessert tray of those stupid tarts.” Erik did not enjoy certain aspects of his wedding, but overall, it was fine.

“Cake is tradition.” Jules says.

“A doughnut station would be fun and unique.” Erik says, Raoul wants a stupid doughnut station, what the hell, why not, says he.

“You think?” Jules sighs. Erik nods. Jules turns to Reyer.

“Doughnut station?”

Reyer nods.

“I’d love it.”

Jules takes out his phone and taps several keys.

“The things you do for your future husband and wedding guests.”

“Thank you,” Reyer says, the first genuine smile of the evening.

“Do you cook, Raoul?” Jules asks, Raoul feels his spine tingle. There is something off about the question.

“I can, but I’m lazy. My mother and grandmother collected recipes, and I have them around somewhere. Do you cook?” Raoul’s something tense is about to happen, senses are buzzing.

“I do. I was just curious, I used to cook for Erik all the time. He loves my pasta.”

“Lovely.”

_Is he trying to make jealous and insecure?_

Raoul casts a quick glance at Erik, hard to read a completely masked face, but his body language? Raoul frowns, he can’t tell much either.

“I bake,” Reyer says, he smiles. Raoul nods.

“Baking is fun, we could have a baking party.” Raoul tries to remember where the cookie sheets and Bundt pans are.

“Baking and movie night?” Reyer suggest, Raoul agrees.

“Your people do that each Halloween, at the Opera. They use the Pink Room. I let them as long as they pay for the night.” Erik says.

“They have a baking party?” Raoul asks, confused. They bake at the Opera?

“No. They bring in sweets and watch movies. They have someone bring a computer and the film is projected on the wall or a white sheet.” Erik explains.

“That makes sense. We could join them.” Raoul wants to be active with his players. They seem to respond well when he is.

“They invite me, but I lack the interest. I’m content with the money they leave.” Erik says, his plate is untouched, the others are halfway through.

“Erik’s favorite movie is about those clowns.” Jules says with an evil smile. Erik chokes on his wine. He slams his fist on the table.

“False.” His voice hoarse.

“You love it.” Jules grin grows.

“The second worst thing Denny brought into my house.” Erik hisses.

“Did he ever finish his nursing program?” Raoul asks, Jules shrugs.

“I wouldn’t know about that.” Jules starts on his plate again.

“How’d you know he was in a nursing program?” Erik asks.

“Hm?” Raoul realizes the mistake too late.

“In fact, I don’t think I’ve **_ever_** mentioned Denny to you.” Erik says, curious now.

“Uh, Toni. She briefly mentioned him.” Raoul says, it is not a lie.

“Why.” Erik forgets about the others in the room. It is an Erik and Raoul world now.

“I asked about previous relationships and she mentioned his name.” Raoul drinks all the gin.

“Interesting.” Erik interlocks his fingers and rests his chin on his closed hands and watches Raoul.

“Who’s Denny?” Reyer asks, completely lost and out of the loop.

“My ex.” Erik’s attention is still entirely on Raoul.

“Oh, he die or something?”

“Meri.” Jules kicks him under the table. Reyer wines and curses as he grabs for his leg.

“I wouldn’t know.” Raoul feels hot. He is sure his face is changing color.

“Are you feeling all right, lover? Your face is turning such curious shades.” Erik tilts his head. Raoul stands and he leaves the table.

\--

* * *

Raoul is pacing in the kitchen trying to get some air, trying to breath. Failing the breathing techniques.

Erik grabs him, stops him, steadies Raoul.

“I will ask you one more time, how do you know about Denny?”

“Toni told me a little, like I said. I’m not lying.” Raoul says this and is able to look into those burning golden feline eyes.

“And what did she say?”

“That you had an ex named Denny. She liked him, that’s it.” Raoul tries to play nonchalant.

“That’s it?” Erik repeats. Raoul tries to break free, he cannot.

“Is this a trigger for you? Is there something I should know about him?”

“He was special.” Erik lets Raoul go.

“Special, eh?” Raoul rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms.

“Yes.” Erik says, he’s far away. Raoul starts to leave,

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Erik says quietly.

“No harm, minor foul.” Raoul says playfully, Erik accepts that.

“Denny is a topic I’m not going to discuss with you, don’t ask about him.”

“Fair enough.”

\--

* * *

“Nightcap?” Raoul frantically closes the diary and shoves it in between the mattress. Erik watches him and hands him a wine glass.

“Thanks!”

After dinner, Raoul retired early to bed, and by bed, he was catching up with Denny’s Diary, or was until Erik found him just now.

“Scandalous book?” Erik’s tone is playful, but Raoul is getting better at being able to read Erik and how to translate what he is really saying.

“Grandmother’s diary. I feel weird when others see me reading it, like it’s rude.”

“You ask about my life story,” Erik moves pillows on the bed, and organizes a space for himself.

“Yes, thank you for the willingness to tell me.” Raoul smiles, he means it.

“Tell me yours, it’s what’s fair. Equal exchange.” Erik jumps onto the bed. Raoul wonders if he’ll make an indentation on the bed, because of his skeletal frame. He’s surprised there’s weight, when he jumped on.

“My story?” Raoul doesn’t think there’s much tell.

“Yes.”

“It pales in comparison to yours. I haven’t done much in my life.” Raoul struggles to think of anything remarkable.

“We’re not comparing, we’re, what is it you call it? Relationship building. I told you a lot of my past, you told me nothing.” Erik turns to look at him, and Raoul looks away, masked face or no masked face, Erik’s intimidating as all get out.

“My family left England when I was about 11. My parents died in an accident when I was 15. My brother raised me after that. He’s seven years older than me. I was supposed to join the Navy, that was the plan. Everyone in my family has served in some way, but instead of attending the American Naval Academy I went to Columbia and after I graduated, I did society stuff and then found my way to Opera Popularie.”

Erik shakes his head and makes strange bitter sounds.

“I gave you **_painful_** details. Not spark notes.” He turns his body to give Raoul his full attention. He props himself on his elbow.

“Why did you join that cult? When did you join?”

Raoul inhales sharply. There is that bit about his life. That one could argue was interesting.

“I was sixteen and I got into a stupid argument with Phillippe, my brother. He wanted me to start to train, to get in shape for my future with the Navy. I told him I did not think I had the interest anymore, we got into argument about duty and legacy. He’s the head of the family and he had certain responsibilities and I had my own.”

Raoul pauses to drink some liquid courage.

“I said stupid hurtful things, he said stupid hurtful things. I don’t remember leaving, but I did. I went into this blind manic panic run. I remember sitting at bench outside a park. Someone started to talk to me, we went to a diner, and it was nice.”

Raoul stops, he needs another minute or two. He stares at his hands; he inhales and exhales and starts again.

“I didn’t want to go to Phillippe, I was still hurt, my new friend said I could stay with them, they had a group home, that’s how they made it sound, so I went with them, and I met everyone. They were nice, very welcoming. Something was off from the beginning. They way they said things.”

Raoul can see his sixteen-year-old ghost mingling in that house, talking, and forgetting the hurt.

“I stayed. Even I after I figured out what they were, It felt good to be there, I didn’t owe any dead relatives anything, my family name didn’t matter there. I had a role, and what I did with that role is what mattered. But the closer it came to officially be in the family, I saw how insidious it was. Some of the children were removed, I do not know if they were killed or just abandoned somewhere, but once they left the house, you were not allowed to talk about them. They simply did not exist.”

Raoul closes his eyes and tries to fight back certain memories.

“I was close to some to the “bad batch,” kids. I don’t understand why they were considered wrong or a failure. I think I could have helped them, but I didn’t.”

Raoul shakes his head, trying to clear the bad, and think of something shallow and pretty.

“You eventually left,” Erik says. Raoul nods.

“I was Seventeen. I dropped out of high school, so I had a lot of catch up to do. It was mentally exhausting, but I was able to catch up to my year.” Raoul is proud of that fact.

“So, that’s my cult life.”

“Was it consensual.”

Raoul had not expected that question.

“What?”

“The children, I assume, they had sex to have these batches, as you put it. Was that rape or consensual? Is that part of the insidious nature of the cult?”

“I think it was both. Or they thought it was consensual? Like, they were conditioned.”

“So, no.”

“When you put it that way.”

Raoul feels sicker.

“Thank you.” Erik leans over and kisses Raoul’s nose though his mask.

“Oh!”

Erik snaps his head and turns to the doorway, Jules is there.

“I see we’re comfortable.”

He makes a hasty exit.

“Was I rude earlier? I thought I made a polite exit.” Raoul is not used to hosting multiple overnight guests in such a manner. Sleepovers were easy, just did whatever, but this was more, tweedy. Raoul feels stiff and stretches and moves his shoulders.

“No, I think he’s more upset with me.” Erik sighs.

“Oh.Oh.Oooh.” Raoul again, feels deflated and wants to hide inside himself. He wraps the blankets around him and tries to hide, to get swallowed.

“Stop it.” Erik pulls the covers back.

Raoul wants them back.

“I meant what I said earlier. He’s never seen me with anyone else, so it’s, **_real_**.” Erik explains, he’s ready to get out of bed, but pauses.

“I’m not ending things, you know that, right? I’m just going to talk to him.”

Raoul feels a little better.

Erik growls a little, and then he grabs Raoul’s shoulders and kisses him, though the mask again, because of course he does, and rests his masked face against Raoul’s.

“I’m coming back.” Erik says half angry. Raoul accepts this. Erik gives another quick masked kiss before he leaves the bed and room.

A minute later Reyer pops by.

“Quick sleepover party?” Raoul asks. Reyer nods, asking for permission with his eyes, Raoul flips the covers over, Reyer wastes no time and jumps onto the bed.

* * *

Jules finds the bar very lovely. He opens the bottle of wine he brought and pours a very generous helping.

“I told you I was seeing someone.” Erik is behind him. Jules can feel him, and he drinks faster than intended.

“I know.” He breathes, he wipes the excess liquid from his lips.

“You’re getting married next month.” Erik reminds him.

“Which I’m excited about,” Jules says, he drinks more. Erik holds onto Jules hips.

“Then why are you drinking and letting me do this?” He asks, mouth at his ear.

“If you like Raoul, why are you doing this in the first place?” Jules counters, after a minute he moves away.

“This has always been my personality.” Erik leans back against the bar.

“I do want to marry him; I just have those usual doubts. This is the doubting time.” Jules finishes his glass and keeps distance.

“Meri’s the one who should have doubts, you’re the one **_lowering_** standards.” Erik casts a glance to Jules, who turns away.

“Maybe the same can be said for you,” Jules snaps. Erik laughs.

“Everyone is a lower level, compared to me.” Erik says bushing dirt off his gloved fingers.

“How nice!”

“It’s hard to be me,” Erik moans. Jules shakes his head.

“Yeah, poor baby. I suddenly feel very confidant now, I’m going back to bed, to Meri. Thanks.” Jules drops the glass by the bar.

“Goodnight, darling.” Erik blows him a kiss, and Jules hesitates for a minute.

“Did you want to?”

“Want to?” Erik tilts his head.

“A, uhm. Heh?” Jules is having trouble articulating.

“Fuck you? Here?” Erik looks around, feigning confusion.

“I mean,” Jules feels terrible now, Meri is upstairs, and Jules does love and want to marry him, but Erik is right here, and he’s so good at so many pleasurable things.

“ ** _No_**. I just wanted to fuck **_with_** you.” He kisses Jules on the lips.

“Goodnight,” Erik says, as he pats Jules’s head, before leaving the lounge.

“So, that’s a no?” Jules, still not quite sure.

“ ** _Goodnight_**.” Erik says, more pointedly. He does not look back or stop.

\--

* * *

“You what?!” Reyer’s voice carries. Erik’s jaw clenches, and he must keep his cool. He walks past the room, throwing a quick glance. Reyer and Raoul are in bed laughing over something inane, no doubt.

Meg is dancing around the room, wearing a wig, and jewelry that does not belong to her. Erik leans against the door and waits for her to notice his presence.

“Oh!” Meg stops and nearly dies from surprise.

“Put all of that back.”

She nods.

“Did you eat?”

“I did! It was good, simple. Thought it would be something crazy like, I don’t know, falcon eggs and bison.” She is not sure what eliter people eat.

“Anyway, I’ll check back with you later.”

“Cool, cool, cool.” She thumbs up. He shakes his head and leaves the post. Meg waits a few seconds before she gets back to her groove.

Erik could be cool and announce his presence, or he could grab Reyer’s arm like he is and pull out of the bed, and half drag him out of the room.

“Goodnight, darling.” He kisses Reyer, before he gives him a final push and closes the door.

“Kind of rude,” Raoul says.

“Nighttime is **_our_** time.”

Erik strides over to the bed, hops on.

"Good talk with Jules?" Raoul asks, Erik hesitates before he leans over.

"It was. "

Erik plays the collar of Raoul's shirt,

"I will play with others, but I'll come home to you."

"What does play mean here?"

"Socialize, tease, touch, play," Erik says, he leans in and starts to undo the buttons of Raoul's shirt.

"Oh, flirt! That's fine! Flirting fun, I do that all the time." Raoul feels relief, until Erik tears off some shirt. Raoul arches a brow.

"Ah. Yes. Flirt." He tries to laugh.

"You good?"

Erik nods.

"I'm good," he repeats, his tone and affect odd, he carries on with undressing his lover. Raoul relaxes.

Erik bites back his ire and swallows it down. He focuses on the fun tasks at hand, and will revisit his feelings later.


	30. Nonsense Weird Random Plotless Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nonsense weird random fun times that has no bearing to any plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reference material.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxauTJpY-hg  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39Bnk6VU53Y  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJVXTKkjsxA
> 
> Oh, this is the best song of ever  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGVX033PiDA
> 
> (not really, but a sarcastic operatic version sung by Erik would be awesome)

* * *

* * *

  
Everyone is gathered in the Pink Room, everyone has got their spook on and ready to kick with sweets, treats and good ol’ terrible but delicious horror movies.

The white sheet/screen is ready, the computer and projector are linked, all good to go. They did their collection and left the rent money for Mr. Opera Ghost in his box as requested, and they even left him a sample plate of treats and sweets they baked.

Raoul left a bottle of wine because he knows that’s what he is likely to consume.

This is cool, Raoul feels good about this. He’s a part of the team again, he’s not just the Man or whatever, but wanted. They didn’t say anything awkward about him being present, which is cool.

He found open space by Christine and the two have been having a pleasant chat, turns out she likes comics and hates the same books.

“I had high hopes for _Silas Marner_ too, but I just couldn’t get into it. Did you see that movie, that is loosely inspired by it? _Black Snake Moan_? I say loosely, generously.” Christine asks as she pops some candied popcorn into her mouth.

“I did! It was different, but I kind of liked it. I didn’t hate it.” Raoul is more of a red vines man.

“It was forgettable, not offensive, to be sure.”

“Do you like scary movies? I’m mean you’re here, I guess you would.” Raoul rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. He’s slowly realizing he only has one friend.

“I like horror movies, but I love how deep the genre is. It’s not just slasher slash, I’m stab your teenage kidneys! You could use the genre to illustrate how, like, periods suck, how carless people are with sex, and so on.”

“I think my favorite modern horror movie is _The Woman,”_

“The 2011 movie? Lucky McKee? Shut up! I love that movie! No one I know has ever seen it!” Christine playfully pushes Raoul like her name is Elaine Benes.

“Yes! That movie was so fucked,”

“I know! The dogs! Oh gods, I can hear them crunching.” Christine covers her ears and laughs.

“That haunts my nightmares.” Raoul shudders.

“Hey! Meg and I watch creepy movies with her friend Vincent sometimes, you should join us next time.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

Meg suddenly appears holding a few DVDs.

“Who is ready to get their clowns on,” Meg and Christine dance, shaking their arms to the left and right, getting down, as they are, well, sitting down.

“These clowns are gonna make you die,” Both girls sing. Meg pauses from dances, and shows off a bag of candy corn.

“Tiny traffic cones, anyone?”

“A gingerbread man is behind the wheel,” Raoul says, and Meg eyes light up,

“And he’s drunk!”

“The zombie episode!” Meg squeals.

“What the hell is going on with this cat!” Raoul shouts.

“Is someone throwing it!?” Meg howls with laughter.

“Back burner Troy! This cat has to be dealt with!” Christine says, because she knows things.

“Did we just become a trio?” Meg asks very gleeful.

“I think so.”

“Red vines?” He offers.

“Favorite way to red wines in a German accent,” Christine says.

“Red vines!” Meg and Raoul answer back.

“Meri is the only other person I know who loves this stuff, we all should hang out.”

“Meri? You mean Mr. Reyer?” Christine asks. Then Raoul remembers that he has that distance because he is technically everyone’s boss, including his new found friends.

“Just call him Meri or Reyer, it’s how I do.”

“I guess it would be cool to have an older friend, like Giles, and he is English, like Giles.”

“Giles?”

“Buffy,” Meg says.

“Giles is the Watcher, he actually used to be in a cult where they summoned demons and worshiped chaos.” Christine explains further.

“But he got over it and become good!” Meg says.

“Mostly because the demon started to kill everyone, but still. He was like, no bro. Not into this.” Christine says as she pops more candy goodness into her mouth.

The lights go out and everyone pointedly goes, “sshhhh,” and Meg, Raoul, and Christine take the hint and hush.

The credits for the classic, Sleepaway Camp, begin and Raoul gets very excited, as does everyone else, but everyone in this room, like him, nerd out over random 80s cheese movies of splendor.

\--

* * *

“I don’t think I can do that.” Reyer says, and he regrets showing up.

“Do what? We’re just watching movies.”

“Having more than one friend is a lot of responsibility.” Reyer doesn’t want to join the others in the Pink Room.

Raoul opens the door and gestures for him to go in. He could leave, these people don’t want him here, and he’s about to go.

“Reyer, get your ass in here!” Jess says, she whistles.

“Come to the dark side, we have candy!” Joe says. Reyer smiles and he walks in.

“Maybe, I can watch one film or two.” He says as he finds a spot on the floor. Raoul joins him, as does Meg and Christine, they each offer him different candies and he feels like the prettiest one at the cotillion.

“It’s cool you finally joined us for one of these Mr. Reyer,” Meg says. Reyer nearly chokes on his candy.

“No, I don’t like that. Reyer or Meri.”

“Mercier if you’re nasty?” Raoul asks.

“Yes.”

“Oooh!” Meg winces and covers her eyes, someone just exploded into blood on screen.

“He’s not in sequel!” Reyer boos. The others laugh at his joke. Yeah, Reyer feels a bit better, he could be Reyer at the party tonight.

“Reyer, you’re dangerously sober,” Jess leans in, separates the Meg and Raoul, and hands Reyer a smokey drink in a coconut shaped plastic cup, he accepts, she approves and moves back to her spot.

“One of us, one of us,” Joe hands Raoul his own.

“Can we watch _Freaks_ next?” Reyer asks, and he hears jeers and cheers

“I have it with me, boi!” Jess giggles and crawls forward, the others divide so she can move and put that movie on next.

“There should be a musical about _Freaks_. It would take place on Coney Island, and someone mysterious should be the owner.” Reyer says. Best idea ever.

“The owner could be called Mr. Y. Because mystery!” Raoul says, he waves his hand in the air.

“That’s dumb.” Christine says.

“Think of the potential songs! I am under a moonless sky!” Reyer is starting to want this.

“Boring!” Meg says.

“Hard pass.” Christine yawns.

“Everyone shut up! The beauty is starting!” Jess shouts and everyone obeys.

Reyer turns to Raoul.

“We’re totally writing a _Freaks_ musical, right?” Reyer asks

“Duh, after we get the Tonys for the grilled cheese one.” They perform their secret handshake.


	31. Chapter 31

“So, what are we doing?”

“Hm?”

“Just going to stand out here. Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why are we here, Meri!”

Raoul and Reyer have been standing outside the Swan Theatre for about an hour now. Reyer’s staring into space, while Raoul has been trying to ascertain why they are even there.

“Moira.” Reyer says the name as if it is vile, poison.

“Moira?”

“She was my best friend, before you, she’s **_evil_**.” He spits out the last word.

“Oookay, and we’re here, because?”

Reyer says nothing, he produced two tickets. Raoul is still completely lost here.

“She’s the stage manager here, has been for a few years, and each year, no matter the theatre, she sends me tickets. The best seats.” Reyer says, he crumples the tickets in his hands.

“The bitch.” Raoul is at a total loss here.

“She does it on purpose.”

“Intentionally sending you free tickets. Why do we hate this?”

“She poaches talent. She’s been trying to get Carlotta for years, not sure why it’s failed, but she’s been successful with others, some of my band, our head of wardrobe, after she left us, went on to win Helen Hayes Awards,” Reyer is too angry to finish.

“Timing,” Raoul says.

“She’s been asking around about Sorelli, Christine.”

“They have contracts with us, they cannot just up and go.”

“She’s trying to buy land around Opera Populaire. She is doing it to piss me off. You know what the last thing she said to me was?”

Raoul does not, he shakes his head.

“ _Dangerous Liaisons_ is overrated.”

“ ** _No_**.” Raoul tries to keep his sarcasm out of his voice, and he fails, but Reyer is too about his hatred of Moira, to notice.

“I know! And that she hopes I fall into a coma the day _Hunchback of Notre Dame_ finally makes it to proper Broadway.”

“Monster.”

“I know!” He hisses.

“Why are we here, Meri?”

“Closure. She was my best friend when I first got engaged to Jules. Now I need to close that chapter, disinvite her. She keeps sending me wedding bullshit. As if she is going! She is doing it to fuck with me. I need to tell her to go to hell one last time and then walk away forever.”

“That’s mature of you.”

“Thank you.”

“So, are we going to go inside to do this? Or curse the building?”

Reyer exhales and inhales. Shoulders back, chin up, he striders forward, pushes the doors open and he is a man on a mission, Raoul has to fight to keep up with him.

Reyer finds the manager’s office and enters. Moira is a pretty petite redhead, her eyes shine, she jumps up from her seat and she practically jumps Reyer, they hug for a good minute.

“Rey, my god! I’m so glad you came! You freak of nature, why have you been ignoring me!” Moira takes a step back and slaps his arm teasingly.

“You know why I’m here.”

“I miss you, babes. Angel keeps stopping by, she really wants to see you.” Moira rubs his arm, and Reyer winces.

“I have nothing to say to that woman.” Reyer says through closed teeth.

“I told her about your wedding.” Moira says softly.

“And she didn’t die? How disappointing.” Reyer says snappishly. Moira hits his arm.

“She is your family! She raised you!” Moira chides.

“She’s also abused me and my siblings!” Reyer says hotly.

“Let the past die, babes. She wants to move forward, and I know you do too.”

“There are some things, only Satan can forgive, and until then, they both can suffer each other’s company.” Reyer tilts his chin upwards. Moira shakes her head.

“Rey, you need to let go. It happened years ago, and you didn’t die. You are just moping like a spoiled child at this point. Also, rude. Gonna introduce us?” Moira nods at Raoul, who waves.

“This is Raoul, Raoul, this is a bitch named Moira.”

“Oh, you!”

Raoul holds out his hand, she stares at it, as if he is the filthiest thing ever. He waits, he then awkwardly takes back his hand.

“I don’t touch strangers.” Moira says.

“Bless your heart,” Raoul says. His friend from North Carolina told him about that one. Her eyes spark at that, mission accomplished. Raoul smiles and nods, small wins.

“Rey, the show is starting in a few minutes, you should take your seats, it’s rude you arrived so late.” Moira touches his arm again, and pouts.

“Oooh, is it rude?” He says mockingly.

“Rey, you’re better than this.”

Reyer digs through his pockets, pulls out a few things. The Loudest of Snacks.

“Good thing I got snacks! Let’s go, Raoul! We got theatre!”

Before Reyer leaves, he pauses and turns around.

“It’s so good to see you! Ah, you!” He gives her the fakest of smiles before he glares and leaves. Raoul waves and follows his friend.

“I’m going to commit a sin, but I’m not turning my phone off and I am texting **_everyone_**!” Reyer shouts, waving his hands aggressively in the air.

“I’m his only friend, who is he going to text?” Raoul asks no one and follows him.

\--

* * *

Raoul likes simple things in life. He enjoys tea, because, English. He likes a good book, gin, because his older brother, and coffee, because New York and America. He likes to spend Sunday morning alone, drinking coffee outside at whatever café catches his fancy.

He’s doing that now, got coffee, a pastry, and a book. He’s enjoying the crisp air of this Sunday, it’s great. It’s good. Then Moira, someone he does not know, sits down across from him.

Rude.

He puts his book down, he is not rude, and gives her his attention. She places her hands on her purse in front of her, and he feels like the devil is about to demand he lick her shoes.

Even Erik does not give him these vibes and it’s **_Erik_**.

“We have a problem.” She says, she taps her fingers on her purse.

“Do we?”

“You have influence over Rey. Influence I used to have.”

“Uh huh.”

“I need Angel to be at this wedding.”

“The wedding neither of you are invited to.” Raoul points out.

“I **_need_** to be at this wedding.” She says her voice at an increased pitch. She is growing irritated.

“I don’t know you and I don’t manipulate my friends.”

“Jules Bernard is the most influential and important man in this country. He has influence in several countries all over the world and I need him. Rey broke up with me for, stupid reasons, and I need him back.”

“You just told me you intend to use or have used people that are in my life that are important to me, or are important to people who are important to me. I do not do social climbing bullshit. I do not care. You want to use Jules? Figure it out on your own.”

Raoul picks up his book and intends to read, this bitch can see herself out. She leans over, grabs the book, and throws it behind them.

“I have two loves in my life, money and theatre. Jules can get me in the circle of money and stupid, desperate men. I can suck it up, be a piece of ass, as long as I get my money so I can keep my theater, because no one is in this life for the millions.”

“Not my problem.”

Raoul does not like this woman.

“Oh, please. Why do you think Rey likes you or Jules? Same thing. Theatre and money. He needs money, he likes the excess and the attention, and he makes an excuse he does it for the art he loves.”

He is verging on hating her.

“Why would I do anything for you? I don’t know, I don’t owe you.”

“Does your brother know you’re gay?”

“What?”

“I’m not stupid, I do my research.” Moira slides something out from her purse, Raoul’s mobile. Oh. She is good.

“According to these texts. He does not know you have a serious boyfriend. In fact, none of your society friends know.”

“People care less about that today, and I cannot lose my position over this, I also own the Opera Populaire.”

“You could lose your brother.”

Ah. There is that.

“What’s it going to be?”

“I don’t like you.” Raoul glares at her, he takes his phone.

“I need to be at this wedding.”

“Blackmail doesn’t work on me. I don’t use people.”

“There are other ways to take someone down, honey. I need to be at this wedding.”

\--

* * *

Monday arrives, the previous night forggten with good sleep and gin. That is until Raoul arrives at the Opera and he finds officers and Reyer in his office.

“Hello.” Raoul says, he walks over to his desk. Reyer is pale and he is holding his head.

Several photos are pushed in front of Raoul.

“So you like to get high with underage girls?” The officer asks, tapping the photo.

“What?”

“Raoul, what did you do?” Reyer’s voice is hoarse.

“I-uh. I can explain.”

“So, you admit that this is you, In the photo? High as a kite with a fifteen-year-old?”

“Uh, that’s me, yes, but I-“

“Excellent! Why don’t you come with us, I’d love to show you around the station?”

“Raoul,” Reyer is shaking.

Raoul’s phone in his pocket starts to buzz.

**Unknown**

Happy Monday! Still waiting for my wedding invite

XOXO

Raoul throws his phone to Reyer, he catches it confused. He leaves the officer, trying to explain himself.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Reyer knows the number, as he checks it.

“Trying to take my friends down, fuck you.” He starts to pace around the room. How is Reyer supposed to fix this!

“Killing her would be irrelevant, no matter how satisfying, because this doesn’t fix anything!” Reyer kicks the chair.

“I need a witness. Someone who can clear his name. Why were you out with teenagers, Raoul!”

Reyer pauses. Teenagers. Thought occurring. Teenagers. Christine is eighteen. Raoul and Christine have only just started to spend time together.

Okay, Okay

Reyer continues to pace, aaah!

Meg!

Meg did not show up to rehearsal today. Coincidence? He runs to the desk, maybe some kind of clue. Meg does not live with Christine anymore and he is not sure how to access Erik’s lair, and he doesn’t want to go there alone.

Aha! A note, in the style that Erik sends when he does his Phantom shit.

Leto,

Meg is ill. She will be unable to attend rehearsals today, most likely the rest of the week. It will be for the best you stay away as well. When she is better, I’ll let you know.

Erik

Reyer is back to panicking. Meg could be a lead, a good witness, she could explain what happened, maybe she was there! Maybe! Reyer fumbles with Raoul’s phone and is shaking again

He is about to text the Devil, that’s not something he can say he does every day. He is going to be potentially alone in the dark, with Satan, who loves to fuck with his mind, but Raoul! He must save Raoul!

That stupid bitch! What does she want with Raoul! And asking for a wedding invite? What the hell, leave his friends alone.

Did she try to get Raoul to do something behind his back? Raoul is stupid enough to constantly stand up to **_Erik_**!

As If he would cave to a lesser gremlin!

Reyer takes deep breaths, he finishes the message and he waits. Oh god, this is going to be torture.

The phone dings.

**That Guy**

Knock, knock.

Reyer blinks, and then he hears it. A loud knock, knock, knock. The wall moves, Reyer takes a step back, and it opens, to reveal a door. Reyer waits, because he knows He is there.

And he waits.

Waits.

Waits still.

Reyer slowly braves to walk forward.

He taps the door.

Nothing.

He turns the handle, and he walks through the doorway, he looks left, right. He has no idea what he is doing.

He turns the phone’s light on and he tries to find his way forward. He feels like he is in one of his RPG games, but usually he would have party members, but there is the portion where it’s just you.

Oh, he is not like his Warden. She is so much braver than he is. She’s also a mage and has magic to protect her.

He sighs, he keeps moving, pressing along, as he has no other option.

Finally, he is blocked by a wall. The phone dings again.

**That Guy**

Diagon Alley.

Reyer knows exactly what to do, aha! It works. Nerd save the day! The wall reveals another door, and Reyer is speechless.

It’s not some creepy spider infested lair! It’s a beautiful well cared for manor! Everything is clean, bright, like he stepped onto the set of a _Dangerous Liaisons_ production.

Are there servants running around?

“You survived. Well done.” Says a voice from behind him. Reyer jumps and regrets his decision to come here.

“This way,” Erik doesn’t wait for him to respond as he walks ahead, eventually they are in a lovely little hallway, it looks normal enough. There are even family photos.

Erik stops at a door and opens it, he gestures. Reyer walks in, there is a sleeping figure. Reyer has never been in a teenage girls room.

Reyer stops at her bed and looks down. He feels bad, having to wake her up. Erik does not, he sighs annoyed, pushes Reyer out of the way and taps Meg, who sits up, rubbing her eyes.

“Huh? I don’t want the posies.” Meg blinks sleep from her eyes.

“Do you remember that rave you attended?” Erik asks, his voice soft, tender, he lovingly pets Meg’s hair.

“Yes,”

” You should be recording this.” Erik says to Reyer, his focus still on the teen.

Reyer sets the device up and points it towards her.

“Meg, did Raoul know you were going to a rave?” He is still speaking softly, and Meg is half afraid of him.

“I think I told him after, he didn’t want to leave the house. He said he wanted to take his babysitting seriously. I kind of um,”

“Hm?”

Reyer leans in closer, to capture what she is saying.

“I ran away. He had to follow me. He did not know where we were going. It was me. I lead him there.”

Meg feels sick for different reasons. She is confused at is not sure why Mr. Reyer is pointing his phone at her, or why he is even there.

“So, you ran away from your babysitter, he followed you to take you back home, but you lead him to the rave, he had no knowledge about.” Erik anger swells a bit.

“Yes.” Meg says miserably. She does not want to go through it all again.

“That might be enough,” Reyer says. Erik shakes his head. He cups Meg’s face and forces her to look at him.

“The drugs. How did Raoul get them? He thought they were tic tacs.”

Reyer keeps the device on. Meg Is hesitant. Erik applies pressure and she responds.

“Vincent had tic tacs, we both thought they were tic tacs.”

“Meg,” Reyer says,” it’s very important you’re honest. Raoul’s been arrested because of this. We need all the information you can give.”

Meg moans. She did not know he would get in trouble; it was a stupid, stupid night and she’s trying to forget about it.

“Vincent said they were mints; he gave them to Raoul. That is what we thought they were, I swear!” Meg cries. She feels pathetic and wants the world to go away now.

“Where does he live.”

Meg tries to look away, but Erik’s grip is strong.

“Where does he live, Marguerite.”

She mutters the address; Erik hears it and stores it in his brain. He kisses the top of her head and motions for Reyer to follow him.

“I trust you can find your own way back and to the proper authorities with your new information.” Erik says, he speaks slowly. He clenches and unclenches his hands.

“I can, yes. Thank you.”

“You can see yourself out, I have a hunt to prepare for.” Erik walks off in the opposition direction humming a song that makes Reyer think of death and funerals.

Reyer makes a hasty exit.

* * *

"That was terrible." Raoul says as he and Reyer leave the station.

"I don't know what Moira said or tried to get from you, but if she--"

"I don't care what she wants. I don't use or betray my people." Raoul says.

"She clearly has information on you, she's willing to use to hurt and or destroy you. And the fact that you are willing to be set on fire for me is amazing, I love you, and also, well no. It's just, this is not how the episode of Gossip Girl would end. I mean." Reyer pauses to think. Now he needs a GG marathon, XOXO, Monday night plans.

Raoul shakes his head.

"I'll die before I betray myself, my convictions or the people I love."

Reyer slaps him.

"You stupid bastard! You know she heard that! God, what were you thinking! if you die, I will kill your ghost!" He screams in frustration.

"You will kill my ghost?" Raoul repeats, he arches a brow and is greatly amused.

"With the duck!"

Reyer strides forward angrily. Raoul laughs and follows him.


	32. Phillippe Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brother-Father comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reptar!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euqkVT9zQFI  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-xlo-qTzC7s

* * *

The beautiful aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled his senses and lulled him out of sleep. Raoul sniffs and he is warm and stupid. He reaches out to the space next to him.

Erik said he would have to leave early in the morning and that they would not have breakfast together, he had too much to do today and he assured him that they would have the evening together instead.

Raoul pats the space, just to be sure, to know for himself, that he indeed, is alone. Perhaps Erik came back and brewed coffee? Raoul loves coffee, the scent of coffee, and art pieces that feature coffee.

In any case, Raoul gets the strength to leave bed, slips on the slippers and makes his way down the steps and to the kitchen where the wonderous coffee perfume is wafting.

“I’d offer you breakfast, but you didn’t make any.” Says a playful but peevish voice. Raoul blinks and runs towards the owner of the voice.

“Philly!” He hugs his elder brother, who allows for the gesture and delicately pats Raoul’s back.

“You freak of nature; you didn’t say you were coming back!” Raoul takes a step back. Philippe has not shaved for days, his hair is unruly and needs a good cutting.

“I know. Surprise,” Philippe spreads his arms. He’s holding a cup, Raoul’s favorite blue cup, and leans back into the counter.

“Are you staying?”

“This is my house, Rally Lulu.” Philippe drinks from the cup and stares unblinking into his younger brother’s eyes. Raoul must look away, the gaze is too intense, too personal.

“I mean, do you intend to stay in New York, brother.” Raoul opens a cabinet and finds his second favorite cup, a green Reptar shaped cup.

“For a time. Tell me, is that Sorelli single? The dancer, the hot firey redhead?” Phillippe really likes that Sorelli.

“I don’t know. I don’t keeps tabs on who my players date or if they are.” Raoul pours a cup, but Phillippe takes it from him.

“I need to know. It’s a matter of life or death.” He holds the cup up high and Raoul hops in vain for it. After a minute of this game, Phillippe lowers the cup and Raoul takes it back, spilling some coffee onto his shirt. He sticks his tongue out at his brother.

“Life and death?” Raoul shakes his head.

“My sex life.”

“Ask her tonight, she’s in the production.” Raoul shrugs. Philippe sighs and he straightens up.

“There is another reason I came back so early Rally Lulu, cousin Lissie is concerned about you. You have not been responding to her letters. And I thought, something terrible must have befallen my sweet, little, baby brother, for he surely would not ignore his cousin.” Raoul’s face changes colors, and he squeaks. It is true, he has neglected to write to his cousin, but he has good reason for it.

“Philly, you’ve read her letters. They are too much.” Raoul says lamely. He is a little boy, who cannot be assed to write thank you cards to everyone who sent him a gift for his birthday.

“I have and I also write back. It is what’s proper, brother. Mother would have your backside for this.” Philippe drinks his coffee, staring his brother down with the high road.

“She writes about everything, **_everything_**. From how cold it is when she holds the sheets against her skin, to how soft the slippers are, and the great release it is when she goes to the bathroom. It is painful, her letters are exhausting. It takes a day to just respond appropriately. If I just write, “I’m good, thanks,” she will send a novel back about how it made her sad I don’t feel I can confide in her. I don’t have much to say at any rate.” Raoul waves his hand dismissively and tries to get lost in the sweet, sweet coffee.

“You don’t have much to say?” Phillippe says. Raoul feels his heart drop.

“I don’t feel that much has changed?” Raoul says, trying to sound in control of his emotions.

“Mmhm.”

“You’re the world traveler. I’m looking forward to your tales.” Raoul says, trying to keep subject away from him.

“It was a bust. Sorelli is in the production tonight? Does that mean I get tickets?” Phillippe’s eye’s light up, Raoul nods.

“I always have a few tickets held.” It pays to be the manager/part owner of an opera.

“One of those fancy boxes right?” Phillippe hates being with the rabble. Raoul pauses.

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

\--

* * *

Raoul feels super fantastic and is on the top of the world as he shows off the Opera Populaire to his older brother. Phillippe did his best to keep his boredom off his face and indulged his brother. The tour concludes in Raoul’s office.

Raoul finds a fresh note on his desk, with the simple response of,” Of course,” in that familiar red ink.

“Box five is available. We’ll watch from there tonight.” Raoul says.

“Box five is said to be haunted, I’m excited.” Phillippe practically drools.

“Not haunted. The subscriber is very **_territorial_**. They gave us permission to use their box since the house is sold out.” Raoul puts the note away.

“Oh, boo. I wanted to meet a ghost.” Philippe pouts and takes the seat across from Raoul’s desk. Reyer knocks on the door before he enters.

“Raoul, I- “Philippe snaps his fingers and jumps to his feet. He points at Reyer.

“Let me guess, don’t tell me, don’t tell me. I want to see if I’ve got this right, based on the letters.” He walks around Reyer, who is petrified. Philippe taps Reyer’s shoulder and pulls at the material of his suit jacket, he leans in and moves his hands in a vogue motion.

“You’re Meri.” Philippe says. Reyer nods.

“I honestly half expected you to be a hamster.” Raoul squeaks and Philippe smiles and goes back to the chair.

“A hamster?!” Reyer is horrified and grabs his heart. Raoul shakes his head.

“You’re very delicate.” Phillippe says. He picks up something from Raoul’s desk and plays with it. Reyer turns to Raoul and mouths, ‘hamster,’ he is not amused and is about to faint.

“Meri, this is my brother.” Raoul says.

“Uh huh. Hello.”

“So, Meri, have a breakdown today?” Phillippe barks laughter, and Raoul throws something at him, he catches it, but only causes Phillippe to laugh louder and more intensely.

“Don’t be rude.” Raoul chastises.

“I’m kidding! I mean no harm.” Phillippe puts up his hands.

“Have you met Erik?” Reyer asks without thinking and Raoul shakes his head and waves his arms. Phillippe looks at the two, confused and curious.

“No. Who is that?”

“Erik is,” Reyer is not sure how to answer the question, he frowns at Raoul.

“Erik is our landlord. He’s a bit of an eccentric.” Raoul smiles awkwardly.

“Your landlord.” Phillippe says slowly, he looks at Raoul, he tries to fish for more information, based on his brother’s affect and behavior.

“Mmhm.” Raoul says quickly and then sits down and picks up something randomly and tries to focus on it.

“Going to return to that topic later.” Phillippe promises.

\--

* * *

“What do you mean you didn’t tell him!?” Reyer shouts. They are in the utility closet. Raoul is panicking. He hasn’t told Philippe about his relationship with Erik and doesn’t know how.

“I mean, I didn’t tell him anything! Nothing about, you know, how we met, the twister night, the weird situation. Nothing!” Raoul wants to strangle Reyer and then himself.

“Are you afraid?” Reyer’s only had negativity from his Great Aunt Angel about his sexuality, everyone else in the family has been supportive, so he can see why Raoul would be hesitant.

“I don’t know! This is something serious, right?”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Reyer sighs. This is one of their serious conversations. Boring. He puts his adult hat on.

“What do I do?” Raoul grab his hair and resists pulling it out.

“Is Erik joining you tonight?”

“He didn’t say, but nothing is going to stop him from just suddenly being there, it’s his box.” Raoul is miserable and he hates himself for it.

“Talk to him first. He needs to know that Phillippe doesn’t know and you two need to discuss this, it’s your relationship.” Reyer says this in his stern voice.

“Do I have to talk to Erik? Could I not just send a text?” Reyer shakes his head.

“No. Talk to him. With your voice, in the same room, to his face, or, you know, mask.”

“Mmm. I don’t want to!” Raoul says like a pitiful child.

“Raoul.”

\--

* * *

Raoul hands Erik two bottles of wine and smiles. He feels his face burn and he tries to keep it up. Erik takes the wine and pours a glass; he waits in silence for Raoul to explain.

He does not.

“You’re upset by something.”

The smile isn’t as bright, and the eyes are darker, in pain. Raoul still says nothing.

“You may speak.”

Raoul still does not.

“What’s wrong?”

Raoul hops. He exhales and he picks up the open bottle of wine and drinks from the bottle.

“My brother came back today.” Raoul says, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Erik knows this. He nods.

“And this is upsetting for what reason?” Erik takes the bottle from Raoul and sets it aside.

“He does not know.” Raoul hits his palm with his other hand at each word. He laughs nervously.

“About us?”

Raoul’s laughter rises and he nods.

“You’re ashamed?”

That surprises Erik, he has never had a problem like that with any of his previous relationships. He thought this would be no different. He finds this to be in a word, disheartening.

“No!” Raoul grabs his lover’s hand.

“I just don’t know how to tell him. No one in our family has ever been in a homosexual relationship! I do not know how he would take this! I’m scared! I love him and he’s all the family I’ve had for so long, I don’t know what he’ll think.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know what to do, that’s why I’m here. Tell me what to do, you like doing that.” Raoul laughs little and Erik doesn’t. He kisses Raoul’s hand with his china lips.

“I can’t force you to come out. If you are not ready, you are not ready. I can be your very close friend, if that’s what you need.”

“This would be a lot easier if I let you stay that freaky dominating alpha.” Raoul muses, Erik shakes his head.

“Same answer.”

“Come tonight, I’ll introduce you.”

\--

* * *

Erik does indeed come, he’s waiting in the box when Philippe and Raoul arrive together.

“This is Erik,” Raoul starts, Phillippe cuts him off, amused.

“The eccentric and you do not disappoint. I love this.” Philippe gestures to Erik. He takes a seat and watches the elder man amused. Erik waves. Raoul exhales.

“Erik is um. We’re kind of, um. Close.”

“Okay, cool.” Phillippe says. He spies the alcohol and begins to prepare a drink.

“Really close.” Raoul says. He steps closer to Erik, Philippe nods.

“We’re dating. Seriously dating. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Cool.” Philippe turns to his brother, he nods. He offers his brother a bottle of beer, he takes it.

“Cool?” Raoul feels like he misheard or that his brother misheard.

“Yeah, cool. I do not care. Kinda figured you were gay.”

“Really?”

“Isn’t that why you joined the cult?” Phillippe pops the champagne.

“No!” Raoul stomps his foot.

“It’s fine. Some of us apparently run away and join cults when we have an existential crisis.”

“That’s not why I left!”

“Why are you so upset right now.” Phillippe leans past his brother and taps Erik for his attention.

“He get emotional with you too?”

“I’m not emotional”

“Meri makes it worse,” Erik says. He rubs Raoul’s back, who is pouting and shaking with fury, he takes a seat by Erik, crosses his arms and pouts.

“I am not emotional. I am in perfect control and calm.” Raoul says through closed teeth. He glares at the space ahead.

“He’s going to eat all of the pretzels and ice cream later.” Philippe says with an all-knowing smile.

“I feel no shame in eating pretzels!”

“I didn’t say to feel shame. I just know how you do. Make sure you have those mall pretzels in the freezer.” Phillippe says to Erik, who nods.

“So, how’d you meet?”

\--

* * *

Raoul regrets introducing Erik to his brother. They get along. They really get along. Raoul feels a strange jealously, like he’s in a tennis match. In the corner, his older brother, the one who raised him, and then there’s Erik.

Erik is **a lot** and means a lot. Raoul feels weird. Two of his most important people getting along should make him feel good, not weird, bitter, and jealous. Aren’t they getting along for him?

Raoul tries to clear his insanity. It’s good they seem to get along. After that night at the opera, Philippe and Erik exchanged numbers and they have been having outings together.

Philippe takes Erik out on the town and introduces him to the elite and English nobility and American’s who feel like they are equal to nobility. Erik is a social creature despite his harsh opinions on humanity, and he gets to educate so called philistines on art and culture, and those plutocrats hang onto every word.

His ego is sated each time he goes out with Philippe, who’s own ego gets satisfied.

It is exhausting. At the end of the evening they collapse, energy completed depleted.

\--

* * *

Jules is preparing a fancy meal for two when Raoul enters as if he owns the place. It is true he has a spare key, but it wasn’t meant to be, come in an out as you please, sir.

Meri doesn’t arrive for another thirty minutes or so, and Jules is almost finished with the preparations. Raoul takes a seat at the table and starts to complain.

“That’s terrible, Ralph. Why don’t you call Erik and tell him yourself?” Jules checks the pot on the stove. Raoul shakes his head.

“He’s too busy with him.”

“Your brother, that you introduced him to. Isn’t it good they are friendly?” Jules does not really care either way, he wants Raoul to leave before Meri gets home.

“It is. I guess.” Raoul looks around. He picks up a glass and plays with it.

“It’s my—our **_anniversary_**.” Jules says.

“Oh, that’s good. I think Meri said it was coming up.” Raoul smiles. He puts down the glass and he does not pick up on the hint.

“I have the evening planned. Dinner and some other things.” Jules says. He gestures to the stove. Raoul nods.

“He’s lucky.”

Jules pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I need more time to prepare. Alone. So when Meri comes home, it’s ready.”

“Do you need help?”

“I need you leave.” Jules says, playing nice is over. Raoul blushes he walks out backwards and apologizes several times.

\--

* * *

Raoul comes home to darkness. He walks to the living room and sits down. He has a drink in hand and he tries to forget about the world that he’s feeling alone and neglected.

“Raoul? Why are you sitting in the dark, you loser?” Philippe turns on the light. He jumps over the sofa and lands next to his brother.

“What’s up?”

Raoul says nothing.

“Did you eat all the pretzels?”

Raoul glares and his brother pinches his face, Raoul slaps at him.

“Pour me a drink, you rude American.” Raoul glares, but he obliges. He hands his brother his glass and sits down. Phillippe rests his hand along the back of the sofa.

“I missed you, brother-son. It’s good to be home.”

And then Raoul realizes that all that he needed, that he wanted to hear. He leans his head against his brother, and instead of pushing him away, Phillippe adjust his body and makes it more comfortable for Raoul to rests against him.


	33. Meg and Carlotta Have Some Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg and Carlotta have some fun with vocal rest.

“So, the two of you are on vocal rest.” Carlotta says. She sets her prop down and watches the two younger singers, Christine and Sorelli. They nod and drink tea.

“So, no talking.”

They nod and Carlotta gets an idea. She takes out her phone and scrolls through songs.

“ _Something has changed within me, something is not the same_ ,” Carlotta looks over at the two, they remain silent. Carlotta will not be denied amusement.

“Let’s go more classics. Hm. _There was a time when men were kind and their voices were soft_ ,” Carlotta pauses, looks over at the two.

Christine is shaking her head, biting her lips and Sorelli calmly sips from her cup.

“ _Maybe this time I will be lucky, maybe this time he’ll stay. Maybe this time, for the first time, love won’t hurry away.”_

_Hm. They are stronger than I thought._

Meg walks over and Carlotta keeps her. Meg smiles, being wanted is fun times for her and she is all about it.

“What’s up.”

“They are on vocal rest,” Carlotta indicates the two women and Meg smiles an evil smile, but recovers quickly, her face becomes stoic and unreadable.

“It will be terrible if someone should cause them to break their vocal fast.”

“Yes. Terrible.”

“ _Being alive! Being alive, being alive_!” Meg throws her hand out, gestures to the right, to the left, and to the right again _._

_“Well my friend, you got trouble.”_

_“I can show you the world, shinning, shimmering, splendid. Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide? I can open your eyes_ ,” Meg sings, she gets into the song, and even acts out like she’s on the magic carpet, she puts her arm around Carlotta, who is hesitant, but allows, though she is stiff.

_“Take you wonder by wonder, over, sideways and under, on a magic carpet ride,”_

Christine cannot help it

_“A whole new world! A fantastic new point of view! No one tells us no, or where to go, or say we’re only dreaming!”_

Christine growls and she gestures rudely at Meg.

Sorelli is strong.

“Marie, the baguettes!”

Nope. Sorelli ignores all and drinks her from her cup.

_“I’m gonna rouge my knees and wear my stockings down.”_

_Nope._

_“Banging on a trashcan,”_ Meg is unsure. Sorelli shakes her head.

_“Drumming on the streetlights.”_ Sorelli throws her cup on the ground.

“A little voice is calling me, calling me!” Meg shouts at Sorelli as she storms off.

Carlotta and Meg smile. Worth it.


	34. Philly Gets a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philly and Raoul go on a double date. It's all good, right? It's going to be fine.

* * *

“We have a huge problem,” Philippe says, Reyer enters after him, his eyes on fire. Raoul spins around in his chair, drinking his coffee.

“I’ll say! I’m the stage manager and ha, director of the production and I am not making cast changes.” Reyer snaps. Philippe backhands the air.

“Raoul, tell this idiot that Sorelli is going to be the leading lady.”

Raoul keeps silent and drinks his coffee, his eyes darting between the two men in front of him.

“Not changing the cast!” Reyer shouts. Philippe places his palms on the desk and leans forward into Raoul.

“As a patron, I get to have say in the production!”

Raoul chokes on his coffee.

“Since when have you been a patron?”

“Rally, tell him.”

“Reyer’s the director, and if he doesn’t want to change the casting, not going to make an issue.”

“Raoul, is that your final answer?” Philippe’s eyes spark fire.

“Leave the arts to the artists.” Raoul says trying to sound confidant and empowered.

“Are you certain of this decision?”

Raoul is not but he nods anyway.

“Mm hm. Okay. So, that’s where we are then.” Phillippe slaps his palms together and Raoul has a sick feeling he is heading for war. Philippe cackles before he leaves the office.

“I don’t like where that’s going.” Raoul deadpans.

“Did he just cackle?” Reyer turns his head.

“Did sound like a cackle, didn’t it?”

\--

* * *

“Your brother has compromised your mobile device and has been sending me duplicitous and illicit messages under the guise of you.”

Raoul looks up from the diary. Erik did his annoying wizard appearing magic.

“He’s texting you as me?” Raoul blinks, Erik nods, he sighs annoyed. He hates when Raoul repeats what he says like a layman.

“I no longer find it jocular.”

“I think he’s annoyed with me. I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d mess with you.” Raoul puts the diary in the drawer and locks it.

“I’m more perturbed about your lack of security with your devices.” Erik frowns behind his mask. He tsks and clicks his tongue.

“He’s upset I’m not forcing Reyer to cast Sorelli in the lead female role for the current production.” Erik recoils at that, he clenches his fist and his jaw tightens, he bites back an angry retort.

“He disclosed his penchant for the former dancer, yes.” Erik says through closed teeth, Raoul can feel heat from Erik’s controlled irritation.

“I’m not changing the cast, you can relax.” Raoul reassures him and smiles.

“I adjure that it remains this way.” Erik warns, his voice cold steel. It sends sharp pain through Raoul’s being. Raoul digs his nails into the arms of the fancy chair. He feels cold.

“Can Erik come out and play, Mr. Phantom?”

Erik slowly turns his masked head to Raoul, he moves forward, inches from Raoul face and touches his cheek, and with the devilish smile that Raoul cannot see puts this to him:

“Oh, Leto, if you were talking to that side of me, you’d be—”

Reyer bursts the door like a man at war.

“Raoul, this is getting beyond! He’s now sending notes and writing messages like he’s the fucking Phantom. Do. Something. Fix. This.” Reyer spreads his arms wide, cutting the air vertically. His eyes are hellfire.

“Oh Philly, you GD idiot.” Raoul shakes his head and grabs his head. He really regrets telling his brother about the O.G malarkey.

Reyer leans forward.

“I don’t need **_two_**!” Reyer, jerks his thumb at Erik. He stands up straighter and storms out of the room, slamming the door.

“I’ll have strong words with him,” Raoul says miserably. Erik scratches Raoul under his chin.

\--

* * *

“These are, I love you, but I can’t do the thing you want me to do, pancakes.” Raoul hands his brother a just made plate of chocolate and blueberry pancakes, his brother’s favorite breakfast treat. 

Raoul’s mother made it for them on Sundays. He can hear his mother laughter as she scolds the two boys to get out of the kitchen and to wait like proper humans not raised among pigs.

“Why?” Philippe shoves a large bite into his moouthhole. Raoul shakes his head.

“Because if I change the cast O.G. gets involved and he **_will_** kill you and then me.”

Philippe pokes his fork at Raoul.

“Aren’t you **_dating_** the O.G?”

“Yes, but he separates our romance and business relationship and has made it clear, he will kill me, if I don’t comply. Also, dick move on your end. Stop screwing with the cast, with Reyer. Sorelli has every opportunity to be cast as the female lead in the next production.”

“Fine. Fine. Anyway, get your good suit on, we’re going on a double date.”

“Erik didn’t say anything.”

“Not with him. Sorelli and Christine. The only way I could get Sorelli to go out with me, is if Christine came along, and you are nonthreatening so, get your bells and whatever on.”

“Christine? Really? I do like her, we get on.” Raoul gets up and heads for his room. Philly continues to stuff his face.

* * *

Raoul checks himself out in front of the full lenged mirror. Black slacks, and a blue dress shirt, he takes out his phone, snaps a picture and sends. After a minute his phone dings.

**That Guy**

_Why are you sending me this?_

**_Me_ **

**_My outfit for tonight. Going on a date with Christine, Philly’s taking Sorelli. She’ll only go out if Christine goes. This is my, ‘I Don’t Care About This, But Get to Spend Time with My Friend,’ outfit._ **

**_That Guy_ **

_You’re spending the evening with Christine?_

**_Me_ **

**_Yeah, I like her. We’re friends now. Why? Weird? I am kind of her boss, but she and the others seem keen on friendly friendships._ **

**_That Guy_ **

_Tread carefully, Leto._

Raoul frowns and pockets his phone. He’s not sure if that was warning to be mindful of his behavior or something else.

"Rally Boo, let's go!" Philly calls from downstairs. Raoul checks himself out once more, he gives himself the double guns.

* * *

“This place is so fancy, I don’t what fork to use to kill myself with. I don’t think the waiter likes me.” Christine drinks from her water. She ordered water because it’s all she can afford.

Phillippe did have to choose one of the most elite and expensive places in the city to take the girls to. Raoul does intend to cover, or at least offer to cover Christine’s check, she politely declined.

“I don’t think he likes anyone. I swear he’s going to kick that baby,” Raoul nods to the table behind them.

“I can afford the bread.” Christine says, she takes a roll from the basket. Sorelli places the basket in front of Christine. Philippe watches her, curious. He doesn’t know how to act around poor people. Most of Raoul’s friends are poor, so he’s at ease.

“The bread is complimentary.” Philippe says, he amused to a degree.

“It’s hard.” Sorelli picks up her roll and hits the table with it. She drops it.

“We’ll get more,” Philippe raises his hand to call for their waiter, Sorelli grabs it, puts it down on the table.

“I’m good.”

* * *

“I love the album! It grew on me over the years. My older cousin would let me listen to her more uh, rock and modern music. Papa and I usually bonded over compositions he wrote and Disney.” Christine and Raoul discovered they loved the same music.

“I love to sing _Dead_! All day. To myself.” Raoul smiles. He can hear the band play the track inside his mind and he is very much fine with that.

“Did you get what you deserrrrreve. You gotta, you gotta, stretch out that word.” Christine smiles, her eyes bright with mirth.

“The ending of your life!” Raoul shouts, he is shushed by the other patrons. Raoul blushes, Christine laughs into a napkin. Philly throws the dead roll at Raoul.

 **** Christine taps Raoul's arm to get his attention, she has a fiendish smile and she leans over, Raoul moves closer, offering his ear.

"Wouldn't it be great if we were dead?"

“Ooh, dead!” Raoul sings back to her. Christine bounces in her seat. She goes back to poking at her salad.

“My boyfriend hates my modern music. I try to get him to listen, but he refuses.” Christine shakes her head.

“I know the feeling. We could trade albums.”

“I’d love that.”

* * *

The evening is at its close and Raoul, ever the gentleman, walks his friend, his companion for the evening, Christine, to her door. She and him stand there for a minute.

“This was fun. I enjoyed hanging out with you.” Christine means it.

“Same. It’s nice getting to know each of you.” Raoul says, he also means this.

They stand in silence again. Christine, turns, she unlocks the door, and turns back to Raoul.

“Uh, goodnight,” she kisses his cheek before she goes inside. The door closes loudly and Raoul can hear the rush of the lock being sorted. He shakes it off and walks back to the car where his brother is waiting.

“What was that about?” Philly asks. Raoul touches his cheek, turns to the apartment.

“I don’t know.”

* * *

Meg screams. It's not a scream of horror, she's not in pain or panic, but it's the Oh My God, What, kind of scream you scream when you find out something juicy, juicy. Meg re-reads the text and bounces around.

"Stop that." Erik says, he's not looking up from his sketching. Meg squeals, she types rapidly.

"Ooh, Christine, you naughty!" Meg giggles. She's about to leave the room, when something pulls at her clothing, Erik has grabbed and bunched up the fabric of her shirt in his fist tightly.

"What was that? What happened. Why are you acting like a headless fowl?"

"Christine, my friend who is **_crazy,_** the one I tell you about," Erik gives her the, wrap this up now, gesture, "she kissed someone **_not_ **her boyfriend! What." Meg is enjoying this new piece of gossip. Erik lets go, he stumbles backwards, like he's been struck in the chest by a powerful force.

"This is, so crazy." Meg pauses between words, she's very animated and hyper. She runs to her room laughing.

Erik grabs his head and he is quaking, trembling with rage. His thoughts are loud, jumbled together. He cannot separate the noise. Colors flash between the static, his body is hot like he's bathing in hellfire. He lowers himself to the floor, trying to breathe, to compose himself. A sot, delicate, minute laughter starts to rise from the noise, the void. Red marries the darkness and it's all he can see, can feel.

Erik has gone to sleep.

The Phantom is awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dead!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=az5xl_Srk2Y


	35. Alter

* * *

_Erik’s jealousy is **fatal**. I learned this the hard way. I made the catastrophic error of spending time with my best friend. Marguerite is just weeks old and I wrongly assumed that the happy parents would want time as a family, so I made an effort to keep my distance._

_I’ve been staying with Clark, my best friend from the hospital. We get on well and crashing at his place has been fun. We’re like big stupid kids. We’ve built forts in the front room and have chili challenges that we both failed. Life was good._

_Erik and I had lunch (I ate, he just drank and watched me eat) and I thought it was a good visit._

_“You’ve been avoiding me.”_

_“I’m not. I’m giving you space. New baby.”_

_Erik doesn’t say anything for a while, I don’t think anything of it._

_“Do we need space?”_

_Alarm bells should have gone off there._

_“You just had a baby, Erik. She’s only a few weeks old. This is crucial bonding time.”_

_“You would be around if the baby wasn’t involved?”_

_I didn’t ignore that one. Toni told me what happened with their twins._

_“No! I mean, I wrongly assumed that you would want time—space. The baby isn’t an issue. She’s a precious thing.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I’ve been spending time with my friend Clark. He’s probably getting sick of me, we see each other every day anyway.”_

_“Clark.”_

_“Yeah, Clark. My best friend. Brother from another mother, my platonic soulmate.”_

_“Soulmate?”_

_“Oooh yeah, destined for each other.”_

_I sealed Clark’s fate with that lunch date. If I had known any better or just thought about my actions and words, Clark would still be around._

_He didn’t show up to a shift, unusual. He didn’t show up for the rest of the week, alarm bells went off. I stopped by his place, he wasn’t there. His mail had piled up. He hasn’t been home to collect it, sort it. Something happened to him, I knew it._

_I was worried. I knew this wasn’t his normal behavior. That weekend I considered filing a missing persons report. Erik sat with me after dinner. His affect was odd. He was very kind and supportive, but it felt ingenuine. Sarcastic. There was a sordid mirth behind his words of assurance._

_“Maybe he forgot to tell you about a holiday.”_

_“He’s poor like me. His holiday is going to the store and buying day old cake and having that for breakfast and dinner.”_

_“I’m sure, him being your soulmate, you’d know if something insidious had befallen him.”_

_It was then, that I knew without a doubt Erik had done something. Maybe he scared Clark away or killed him, I’ll never know, but I knew Erik is the reason Clark is missing._

_Erik took my silence as compliance or acceptance, I am sure. He kissed me, pulled me close and sang. I was helpless, powerless. I was screaming inside, but my body was held captive._

* * *

Raoul pauses from the reading. He feels his heart turn cold. He’s told Erik several times how important his brother and Meri Reyer are to him. He’s told Erik that he loved Philly more than anyone, that Mer Reyer is his person, his platonic soulmate.

No.

Clark was a coincidence.

Had to be.

Philly and Meri are still here. They are fine. Erik wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. Raoul would not stand for it, would not forgive it. Erik knows that.

Clark is a freak incident. It’s a shame he went missing and that Denny lost his best friend.

Erik does have a funny view on murder though. Raoul has not seen Erik act out jealousy. Meri and Raoul have been in the same room as Erik, and nothing happened! They’ve had dinner together!

No.

This Clark thing, totally a misunderstanding. Denny is wrong here.

Raoul wishes his hand would stop shaking. It’s making it hard to focus on the words he’s trying to read.

Raoul sighs, he places the diary into his hiding place and locks it.

* * *

Meg is laying on her stomach on the bed. Her feet bang together as she chats merrily on the phone.

Christine is panicked and needs some vent and, oh my god, what did I Just do, help me through this, advice.

“I mean, I wouldn’t consider it a betrayal. Just tell your mystical supernatural invisible boyfriend the truth.”

Meg moves the phone away from her ear as Christine loudly and strongly defends her truth and Meg mocks her with her hand and rolls her eyes.

Meg does not notice her bedroom door open or feel her bed shift as another sits on the edge. It is too late to do anything as she is grabbed by the mouth, the phone falls to the floor.

Meg’s body goes limp as she lapses unconscious, she carefully tucked into bed, kissed goodnight, her phone picked up, call ended, and mobile device slipped into a pocket.

The window has been sealed shut for a few weeks now, so that is not a problem. A piece of wood is placed under the door after it is closed.

Marguerite is secure. The princess is locked in the tower for her safety.

* * *

Raoul is having trouble sleeping. He finds a book from the shelf and tries to get lost in the words and lulled to sleep that way. He has no interest in the pages and he has read the same sentence multiple times.

His vison is blurry, and his head aches, but he’s not sleep tired, more so emotionally and mentally. He sets the book aside and thinks of a new tactic.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees the vison of Red Death. He composes himself and curses him. He just lost a few years of life.

“Bells! I’ll sow bells onto all of your clothes.” Raoul threatens. Red Death says nothing. It tilts its head. They are leaning against the door frame, hands folded in front.

“Erik?”

Philly appears at the door and pokes his head in. Red Death hands moves swiftly and holds onto Philly chin like a lover. Philly narrows his eyes.

“Not that good friends. Raoul, we need a system. Ties on handles. College dorm rules. This is your one.” Philly removes the hand from his face and leaves.

Red Death’s hand remains in place where Philly moved it. Raoul watches with painful anticipation. After what feels like an eternity, the hand goes back to join the other.

Something is wrong. Raoul’s head is screaming. Something has gone terribly wrong and he needs to get out.

Red Death makes their move, and, in an instant, they are on the bed. Raoul doesn’t have time to think, his arms and legs are pinned.

“Raoul.”

Raoul knows something is wrong because Erik does not call him by his given name. So, either this isn’t Erik, or Erik just forgot that he calls him, ‘Leto,’ which is unlikely.

“Who are you?”

Instead of a verbal response, Raoul receives laughter. Not playful innocent laughter, but madness. Maniacal, a cackle, it is nether sane or jovial. Raoul pushes the man away from him and he dives off of the bed and onto the floor.

Raoul turns to face the bed and crawls backwards.

“Who are you?” Raoul asks again, his voice full of fear. He searches the room with his eyes in vain for something to defend himself with.

“ _And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?”_ Red Death sings. It props itself on their elbows and turns to face Raoul. It waves.

“Erik?” Raoul is unsure. He is not going to move towards him until he is sure.

A hand reaches out.

“Leto.”

The voice is soft, delicate. Raoul moves closer, he is compelled to, and he cannot get his body to stop. The grabs him under the chin, not quite his throat and he is pulled, no thrown, onto the bed. Raoul’s pinned down again.

“Why are you doing this?” Raoul manages, his voice is squeaky.

“How was your night? How was your date? How was **_she_**?” His masked face is dangerously close to Raoul’s ear, his exposed neck.

“She?”

Raoul’s heart and insides are flip flopping on a roller coaster from hell.

“Christine. I smell her on you, her sweet perfume.” His hot breath tickles Raoul ear, which is impressive since he’s wearing a mask, parted lips? The things that occupy your thoughts in tense situations. Raoul would laugh if he were not on the verge of tears of panic.

“We had dinner together like I said.” Raoul says quickly. He is trying to get his hands free.

“And?”

“And nothing?”

“Nothing?”

Raoul desperately racks him brain. They talked about music, they made jokes about how poor she is, she kissed his cheek. That flashes in his brain like a marquee. Her kiss on his cheek, the jumbotron freezes the frame.

“She kissed my cheek, but we didn’t do anything!” Raoul shouts. Red Death laughs bitterly and moves a hand to Raoul’s throat.

“Was it good for you?” Pressure applied, Raoul head is tilted up and he cannot breathe. After a few more seconds, pressure is lifted and Raoul sucks in all the air he can.

“It’s not healthy to lie to Erik, or me.”

Raoul has no idea how to respond to that. If this is not Erik, then who the hell is it?

“I’m not lying.”

“Erik **_changed_** for you. **_Modified_** their **_personality_** and **_behavior_** for **_you_** , and what do you do in return, Little Leto? You pluck fruit that is not meant for you.”

A dance of desperation, Raoul adjusts himself and kisses the mask.

“I don’t want anyone else.” He breathes heavily.

“ _You try my patience_.”

Both hands move to Raoul’s throat, but he gives pause. Red Death does not strangle him. He moves back.

“No one else?” Red Death asks, voice low, testing the waters. Raoul nods

“Christine.” Red Death asks.

“I said what I had to say about that.”

“The ice is thin, and it’s cracking underneath our feet, do you think it’s safe?” Red Death grabs both side of Raoul’s face.

“What do you need of me?”

Red Death thinks about this.

“Re-education. Training.”

“Deal, done. If we move past this and be okay again. Anything.”

“We accept.”

Raoul closes his eyes and does his best not to weep. His lover has a split personality that may be more dangerous than the main alter.

Lovely.


	36. No, No, No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens, people emote.  
> This chapter is a good opportunity to discover gaslighting.

Erik wakes up. This is not his bedroom. He’s not in his bed. He feels a sense of panic. He does not know where he is or how he got here. He remembers being home. Meg. Meg is the last image in his mind that he can see that’s coherent.

Erik sits up and looks around and tries to get his bearings. It comes to him, settles with him. He turns on the light and it takes a minute. This room. He’s been here before.

He looks over, Raoul is asleep. He’s with Raoul. Erik frowns. He does not remember coming here. He tries to think, he grabs onto his head and concentrates. Did Raoul invite him over? Why would Erik leave Meg alone? Is Meg being watched by someone? Did she come with him?

Erik peers over the bed and onto the floor. Red velvet suit. Red Death? Erik doesn’t wear that unless.

Erik gets out of the bed and changes quickly. He makes a hasty exit. He’ll send for Raoul later.

\--

* * *

Erik makes a beeline to Meg’s bedroom. He tries to get her door to open but cannot. He tries again and then something catches his eye; he looks down. Something is caught on the door—a piece of wood. He slides it out and opens the door.

He rushes to her bed. Meg is asleep. He places his hand by her mouth and nose, and waits, he does not have a mirror, he should really have a mirror, of all the times not to have a mirror.

Meg squeals and sits up. She’s alive, that’s a good. He takes a step backwards.

“You’re not here to finish me off, are you?” Meg is pale and she moves away from him.

“Bad dream?” Erik asks.

“You chloroformed me!” Meg shouts. Erik recoils. He does not remember that. Meg can be terribly annoying, but he’s never done that to her before.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he frowns.

“You did!”  
Erik shakes his head.

“You watch horror movies before you go to bed. I told you to stop doing that. It gives you nightmares.”

Meg considers this, she is sure he attacked her the previous night, but she does watch a lot of movies where that happens to characters. Meg grabs her head; she tries to think.

“I swear it was real. That it happened.”

“You are niggling, but I would not do that. Not to you.”

Erik sits down on the bed and holds onto her.

\--

* * *

Raoul needs a day. He needs a good mental health day. So, he gets up, makes coffee, enjoys the coffee, and stays in his sleep clothes until 10 AM. He eventually drags himself upstairs and changes into something simple, dark slacks, a grey dress shirt and he’s Gucci, thanks.

He steps outside and goes for a bit of a walk.

\--

* * *

It feels weird to not be at work. Raoul feels very uneasy and half expects to be grabbed by someone, law enforcement perhaps, where he’ll be berated and scolded for his skipping work and ignoring all kinds of adult things he should be doing.

He goes to random shops, to try to distract his mind and occupy his brain with something. He tries to catch a movie, he’s alone, not many people catch films during the day it seems.

The lights go out and he blinks, and the end credits are scrolling. Raoul lost two hours of his day.

\--

* * *

He has lunch at a café outside and he’s not really hungry and doesn’t remember what he ordered. He picks at the food, he feels empty. He pays the check and leaves

\--

* * *

Mist. He feels like mist is moving around him and everything is growing darker as he moves forward. He’s not really there, not present. He stares ahead, but he’s not looking at anything. He’s vaguely aware he’s back at home on the sofa in the lounge area. He’s in the dark. He has no interest to do anything, no drive to move, to go upstairs. He blinks a few times.

There are a million things he could be doing, but none of them seem important or that they matter. Raoul finds it in him to stand up and walk to the stairs.

\--

* * *

Raoul closes his eyes, and he waits to disappear. He opens his eyes, and he is no longer alone.

“You skipped work today and everyone was on me to get shit done.” Philly says.

“Sorry.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Tired,” Raoul says, he turns away.

“Are you ill?”

“Yes.”

Philly frowns, he checks out his brother, he leans over him.

“Did you get sick?” Philly looks for signs.

“No.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Sleep.”

Philly nods.

“If you need anything, I’m here.”

\--

* * *

Raoul stays in bed for the next two days. Raoul doesn’t call for visitors and he sleeps most of the time. He doesn’t eat the bread or broth his brother brings him and they continue to have one-word conversations.

Philly doesn’t like any of this. This is how Raoul reacted the first month or so he came back from that cult. At the time Philly had no idea what happened with his brother, and those were hard times and Raoul’s behavior is quite worrisome.

He’s made some calls and brought in people who feels who could help him. 

“So, here’s the situation, Raoul is sad and he’s not responding to my methods anymore, so that’s why you’re here.”

“This is too much responsibility.” Reyer says.

“You’re into his weird, baser nerd shit, so maybe you can coax him into like some Doctor Homes Knightrider party.” Philly says.

“There’s so much wrong with that.” Reyer says fighting back pain.

“And if nerd fails, you,” Philly nods at Erik,” maybe blow him or something. But can you,” he motions his visage,” can that come off?”

“I can remove my mask, yes.” Erik is in a strange haze and is regretting his decision to come here.

“I get the feeling you’re like 80.”

“I’m not quite 40.” Erik has a thing about his age, and he does not need this right now.

“I feel like you’re 30 years older than my brother.” Philly enjoys making others awkward. It says something about him personally, he’s sure, but ehh, he’ll deal with it later.

“Less than 20.” Erik glares behind his mask.

“So, I’ll send you first.” Philly nods at Erik.

“What’s he been doing anyway?”

“Reading.”

\--

* * *

_I had a good talk with Toni today. She told me more about Erik and gave me a better understanding. She confirmed my suspicions, Erik has a split personality._

_When someone goes through intense trauma, they can disassociate themselves and that can lead to an alter, a new persona or personality, it is a way of protection. Psychology is not my specialty, but I did have to take some classes._

_I’m trying to gage, to document the differences, so I know whom I’m dealing with._

_Toni warned me about his darker half, The Phantom, as she calls it The Phantom is psychotic, violent, cruel and it is extremely difficult, but not impossible to reason with._

_I think this alter is supposed to protect Erik, again this is not my field. I can only go by my experiences and what I have been told by those who have experienced._

_The Phantom is extremely sensitive to things and gets jealous easily and over things that normal people would not be. He is why they lost their twins. Toni paid too much attention to them. She loved them. So did Erik but. When you are sick and untreated—he needed helped 19 years ago._

_“I tried to get him to see someone, but he’s too good at manipulation. He knows how to play psychiatrists and other doctors. His talents are detrimental.” Toni told me_

_Toni needs help too. I wish I could leave, but she would be alone with this madness. Toni used to have friends, she used to have a career, but now all she has is Erik and his madness._

_If I leave, what will happen to Toni and baby Marguerite? I left before and I don’t think I can do that again. If I stay maybe this time it will be different or I may lose my life outside this house. Erik has already asked to spend more time together._

_“Now that you’re back, I’d like to get closer.” He likes to play with my hair. It is curly and he likes to twirl it. It annoys me,_

_He talks to me; twirls my hair and I try to relax. He hums and that is usually what gets me to relax._

_“Want us to get closer?”_

_He nods._

_“Take off your mask.”_

_\--_

* * *

“Leto, what’s the book?”

Raoul stuffs the diary into the mattress. Erik watches him like a curious cat. Does Raoul not know he could easily lift the mattress and retrieve the book, simple as that?

“What’s up?” Raoul tries to play cool; he smiles and turns his body towards Erik.

“That’s the second time you’ve hid that book from me.” Erik sits on the bed.

“Is it?” Raoul tries to remain cool.

“You’ve been in bed for a few days. Are you feeling well?” Erik reaches out to him, but Raoul recoils and Erik takes his hand back.

“Do you remember, coming here the other day?” Raoul asks slowly.

“For dinner?”

Raoul shakes his head.

“Like, two days ago?”

Erik shakes his head.

“I woke up here, I don’t remember coming. Did we drink?” Erik looks around the room for evidence of that, a bottle, something.

“You were, uh, really upset. You weren’t yourself.” Raoul is having difficulty and regrets starting the conversation.

“Did I do something? Did I hurt you?” Erik wrings his hands together and fighting back his own tide of emotion.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me? Something important? That I may need to know?”

“Does it have to do with that book you’re hiding from me?”

Raoul shakes his head.

“Honesty is going to determine where we go from here. Erik, is there something you need to tell me?”

“You met Him?”

“When we had our trial run, you could have explained some things, and yet you didn’t. Why didn’t you—we could have—this is a huge thing to keep from me.”

Erik holds out his hand and takes Raoul’s.

“Hi, my name is Erik and I have this thing where I _disassociate_ and become violent and homicidal. I lose **_hours_** of my day at a time, and have **_no_** control over my mind and actions, do you want to fuck me? **_Date_** me?” Erik kisses Raoul hand.

“Hello Erik, that’s a lot to process, but if you gave me time, I think we could work something out.” Raoul moves the hand up and down.

“You thought I was insane already and didn’t trust me. If I told you, you would have walked away.” Erik says unable to keep emotion from his voice. He coughs, trying to cover it up, it does not.

“It would have given me a better idea of who are you and why you are. You always say for me to not assume things about you, don’t assume things about me or how I’ll react.” Raoul squeezes Erik’s hand.

“That’s fair. Am I why you’re hiding in bed?” Fear builds up inside Erik and he’s trying to keep it at bay. Raoul nods.

“I wasn’t prepared, and I didn’t know what to do or how to respond. You **_strangled_** me for a good minute, Erik. You were going to kill me.” Raoul closes his eyes and touches his throat.

“I don’t remember that and I do not have any ill will towards you. I know I am not always the best with emotions. The only thing that I can think of that would lead you to meet Him is if we had a heated argument?” It is hard for Erik to finds words.

“You kept going on about Christine. You were jealous. Was our dinner that much of a problem? You could have said something earlier. She’s my friend. Did you spy on us? How’d you know she kissed my cheek anyway?”

Erik snaps his head at Raoul.

“What?”

“You came over, or, He came over and was pretty livid over Christine.”

“Oh.”

Raoul picks something up.

“’Who were you jealous over? Me? Or Christine? Erik? Why’d you want her to be the lead so badly?” Raoul takes his hand away from Erik.

“She’s talented.” The static is buzzing. Erik eyes flutter and he tries to remain calm.

“Erik.”

“I gave her private vocal instruction and I wanted to show her off. She’s my masterwork, that’s all. My pride and ego are at stake.”

“She’s your student.” Raoul bites his lip. Erik nods.

“Yes.” Erik plays the fabric of the duvet.

"Erik, you were going to kill me over this, so I deserve your honesty." Raoul's anger is rising. Erik winces. Erik reaches for Raoul hand.

"I met her first," He whispers and Raoul's heard enough. He gets up from the bed and he points to the door.

"You asked for honesty and I gave it to you." Erik says, he's full of sorrow. He doesn't have the strength to stand.

"You don't respect me, that's fine. I don't need this. If you prefer her, met her first, be with her. I don't just understand, why. Why did you make me through all of this? You lied to me, you manipulated me. You deceived me, and I trusted you blindly." Raoul is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"No!" Erik cries and jumps to his feet, sudden inspiration and strength.

"This is where I want to be." Erik walks towards Raoul, who is shaking and turns away from him.

"I don't know if I can believe anything you say." Raoul shakes his head.

"I'm here." Erik tries to grab at Raoul's hands, who moves away.

"Does that even mean anything?"

"I want to be here. I care about you."

"You also tried to kill me!" Raoul shouts as he turns around to face him.

"'Which tells you that you matter to me!"

"What?"

Erik grabs him and pulls him close.

"I care about you." He grabs Raoul's by the sides of his face and kisses the top of his head.

"Oh, you are completely insane." Raoul cries, Erik holds him closer.

"I need you, I want you." Erik whispers and kisses Raoul. He turns Raoul around and backs him up towards the bed.

"Erik, this isn't going to solve our problems!" Raoul tries to fight him off, he backs up and away from Erik.

"If you didn't matter, I wouldn't have come after you!"

"Did you cheat on me or her?" Raoul cannot believe this is happening or he's having a conversation like this. His head is spinning, he feels sick and he wants to hide, to have the world go away and just put a button on all of this and never have to feel again.

"Both." Erik manages, his voice low, shameful. He's a wounded puppy. Raoul feels bad for him, he wants to smack him at the same time as hug him.

"How can I trust anything you say to me? You don't respect us or me or this." Raoul gestures between them. Erik rushes forward and grabs on him, pinning him down on the mattress.

"I don't want to lose this."

"Could've fooled me." Raoul tries to wrangle free.

"I will never respond to things normally, I am neither kind or nice. I enjoy tormenting others, but I don't like hurting you. It brings neither joy or pleasure and it's been a long time since I've had that with anyone. I didn't think I could and then I met you and we got serious. I can see tomorrow with you." Erik says this into Raoul's ear. Raoul believes him. Raoul feels bile rise and burn his throat, but he believes him.

"You say the words, but what do they mean? How can they mean anything?" Raoul eyes are on fire and his throat is strangling him with emotion.

"I intended to do this later, but I want you to know, to see, all of me." Erik's hands are trembling, they leave Raoul and he touches the edges of his mask. Raoul's heart leaps up.

"Erik," Raoul puts his hand and reaches out to him. Erik is shaking.

"Not like this, not like this," Raoul says. He grabs Erik's arm and tugs at him.

"You need something," Erik trails off, he looks down at Raoul. He's a mess too. Both shaking and sweating.

"You'd show me your face?" 

Erik nods.

"You'd try to kill me Erik, I need time to deal with that. That wasn't okay. I can't be with someone who will abuse or murder me when they get upset."

"I'll see someone."

"You didn't before, why now?"

"I have a lot to lose and I refuse to have you and Marguerite slip through my fingers because of--I will take care of--I'll see someone."

Raoul is able to sit up and pull Erik into an embrace.

"We could go together. I'm probably fucked up too."

"You'll stay?"

Raoul nods.


	37. Ayesha Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg and Raoul buy Erik a cat. Enter Ayesha.

* * *

Meg taps the glass and hisses. She does not care for cats and yet, here she stands, at the pet store looking at the kitties. Raoul is not sure why he is needed. He was asked if he wanted to go on an adventure. This not what he had anticipated. He brought his adventuring satchel. He had certain expectations damnit.

“What are we looking for exactly?” Raoul asks. He’s allergic to cats and his allergies are starting to manifest. He rubs his itchy nose and sniffs.

“Papa. Feel like he would be a cat person.” Meg says. Raoul snickers at that and then recovers quickly. He looks around like he is nervous.

“Man-cat god.” Raoul mutters, he taps the glass.

“Anyway, if it comes in black, he’d be about it. So, getting a black kitty cat.” Meg looks at the cats on display behind the glass. She presses her face against it.

“Special reason for the cat gift?”

“Buying love.”

“I mean, besides that.” Raoul rubs his nose some more. His eyes blink and he feels them start to turn red. He will need drops soon. He sniffs.

“There!” Meg finds what she’s looking for and vies for the clerk’s attention.

\--

* * *

Meg holds the cat as they walk through the city back to the subway station.

“What should we name it? Eunice? Sandpaper?” Meg scrunches her nose. She is not fond of cats.

“Sandpaper?”

“Paperclip? Cats are stupid, they don’t deserve proper names. Fleck, Flack, Flounder, Leper, Chlamydia,” Meg trails off.

“You are not naming a cat after an STI.” Raoul shakes his head amused.

“Lupus, Luppy for short.” Meg shakes the sleepy kitty, it opens its eyes and then half glares before attempting sleep again.

“Raoul?” Raoul and Meg look over, it’s Reyer, he speeds his pace to meet them. He leans in to get a look at the cat and scoffs.

“Is it safe with this one?” He nods at Raoul who glares.

“That was a one-time thing! An unintentional one-time thing. I don’t go around making cats explode into blood.” Raoul spreads his arms wide and then drops them to his sides.

Reyer sniggers and Meg lights up and offers the sleeping kitten. Raoul pushes it away gently and shakes his head.

“So, what happened?” Meg asks.

“He made a cat explode into blood.” Reyer eyes light up and go wide. Raoul wants to shake him.

“On accident!”

“Oh, wow!” Meg squeals with delight.

\--

* * *

They are home now and they have not decided on how to present the kitty gift.

“I say we just throw it at him, cat catch, **Cat-** ch.” Meg pretends to throw the kitty. Raoul stops her.

“Why don’t we just hand it over, nicely.” Raoul tries to take the cat and Meg boos.

They follow the music of the organ and continue to argue presentation tactics.

\--

* * *

Raoul wins. He places the sleepy kitten onto the organ. It raises its head, looks around, and then stands up. It walks around in circles a few times before it pauses. It runs to the other end and jumps onto Erik’s lap and curls up and falls asleep.

“Hello.” He tenderly stokes the sleepy kitty; he looks over to Raul and Meg.

“Purpose?” He looks back down at his new pet. Raoul rubs the back of his neck.

“Uh, for you to love and raise?” Raoul says, Meg nods. Erik accepts this.

“Name?”

Raoul and Meg shake their heads and shrugs.

“I think the winner was Chlamydia or Paperclip.” Meg smiles. Raoul pulls at his face.

“No one agreed to those names,” Raoul groans.

“Pretty sure you liked Paperclip.” Meg nods.

Raoul shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t. That’s not a name!” Raoul slaps his forehead and sighs.

“Ayesha.” Erik says fondly. He brings the sleepy kitty to lips and kisses her head. She opens her eyes and meows softly before falling back to slumber.

It is a strange sight to see him, Erik, with his fully concealed face, being tender with a soft flesh furry creature he could easily crush.

\--

* * *

Erik brings Ayesha and Raoul to the store for supplies. Raoul is not sure why he is here; he is still bitter about the lack of a proper adventure and he is still allergic to cats.

Raoul found a mask, a bandana, and is wearing it for protection. His eyes are still exposed, and he is teary and red. Erik holds the kitty close and casually peruses the items as he walks the aisles.

“I’m allergic to cats, why’d you need me for this?” Raoul complains. He huffs and crosses his arms like a petulant child. Erik expects Raoul to sit down in the middle of the store and start to shout and cry nonsense.

“I asked for you to come because of the misguided want of having you around.” Erik taps a product, he turns to Raoul who blushes and looks away, ashamed.

“What are you looking for?”

\--

* * *

Ayesha is the most spoiled creature that Raoul and Meg have ever known. She has deep purple satin collar with a large emerald in the center. Her name is embroidered in gold. Ayesha has free reign of the home and has more freedom than Meg.

“Good girl,” Erik is very affectionate with her. Raoul borrows masks from Erik’s collection and has increased his dosage of his allergy medicine and decreased the time he spends over.

“I’m allergic to cats.” Raoul says, his voice muffled. He’s wearing multiple facial protections behind the fancy artful mask.

“They have an injection for that. Lasts a fortnight.” Erik says as he plays with his kitty.

“Yeah, I guess.” Raoul says. His eyes are on fire and he cannot see that well. He forgot the drops.

“That was not a question.” Erik shakes Ayesha’s favorite toy. Raoul pouts. He is not happy about this.

\--

* * *

“I can’t have sex with you.” Raoul says. They are in Erik's bedroom and Raoul stiffens and he refuses to move or go forward with any activity. Erik steps away in respect.

“Because of what happened the other day? I told you, I couldn’t get an appointment with the therapist until the end of January.” Erik frowns.

Raoul and Erik have not been intimate or affectionate with one another since That Night. Erik is starting to go crazy(er) at the lack of it.

“No. The cat hair. It’s literally killing me.” Raoul points to Ayesha who is perched on her favorite spot in the corner of the room.

“Oh,” Erik is greatly relieved and relaxes, “We can spend the night at a hotel—”

“Yes, we can do that.” Raoul is out the door.

* * *

"I will take as much care with her as you did with Keaton." Meg says this, meaning she will take good care of the Ayesha and make sure her stuff is clean, you know, like a proper pet owner/sitter. Erik, on the other hand, knows what he did and how he sealed Keaton's fate, no regrets, Keaton deserved to die, so he needs a minute to process this.

"Yes." He says this with an odd and animated affect, that reminds Meg of a plastic and stiff doll.

Meg does not want to screw this up. Meg is never allowed to be left home alone for any reason and this random, we're leaving, back in the morning, you're on your own, take care, thing is very much welcomed.

Meg practically pushes them out the door and agrees to agree and nods and closes and locks the door as soon as she can. Meg waits a minute before she runs off to find a not so secret candy stash and runs to the media room and watches all the things she is denied.

* * *

"I don't think I explained how to serve her food." Erik says, he's tempted to go back, but opts to text instead. Raoul is excited he can breathe again.

"I'm sure Meg can figure it out, she had pet rabbit once."

"Yes, but it matters if my little lady dies." Erik snaps and he waits for Meg to respond. He glares at the screen. Meg is taking too long to respond.

"Meg's probably playing with Ayesha, don't worry so much."

* * *

Meg is on the sofa watching a movie on Lifetime and Ayesha is sleeping on the back of the sofa behind/on top of Meg's head. Meg offers a bit of popcorn to the kitty, who politely declines. Meg shrugs and pops the popcorn into her mouth.

Meg has left her phone on the coffee table, she does not know she has been receiving texts. Her focus is on the film and on occasion, the kitty.

* * *

Erik wants to strangle the phone and his daughter. He's ignoring Raoul because he's been obsessing over this one sided conversation. He growls, not groans, but an deep, low, animalistic, pissed off apex predator's **growl**. Raoul steps away in fear and leaves him be. Erik cannot take it anymore and calls her.

Raoul watches curiously, the entire conversation Erik has on the phone is in French, a language, Raoul, the English bloke, still is not fluent in, despite the offers of tutelage from both Reyer and Erik.

He ends the call and he needs a minute to let the anger and frustration cascade from his being. He turns around and spies Raoul. He remembers why they came.

* * *

It's near midnight and Meg's phone buzzes again. She checks it, rolls her eyes and takes a pic of the perfectly alive kitten that's laying in Meg's lap. Meg sends the pic. A second later she is scolded for still being up. Meg tosses the phone onto the coffee table and watches the TV.

* * *

Meg falls asleep on the sofa and rudely woken up by her irate Papa.

"You can't sleep with her, you'll crush and kill her!" He takes the perfectly fine kitten, glares at Meg, scolds her in French and turns his attention to the kitten, he soothes her and kisses her and holds her tenderly. Raoul kicks the sofa.

"Want to go for pancakes?"

Meg doesn't answer him, she slips into her shoes and runs to the door.

* * *

"I think the cat was a mistake," Meg says as she stuffs a forkful of pancake into her mouthole. Raoul agrees, but not with sinister vibe.

"I don't disagree, but he loves it, so we'll just have to deal." Raoul drinks his coffee.

"Do we, though?" Meg drinks some milk. 

"The kitten stays, no debate." Raoul uses his Boss Voice.

"Fine, but I am not happy about this." Meg pouts and crosses her arms.

* * *

Raoul drops Meg off and is headed out when Erik appears, he grabs Raoul's wrist and wordlessly leads him to his music studio. He takes his seat at the piano, Ayesha is on top of it, as Erik plays, she meows/hums to his music, as if singing. She's not entirely out of key.

"She can harmonize with you."

Raoul feels sick. If Erik demands that the cat gets a part in the Opera and Musical productions he will have a stroke and die. There some things Raoul cannot allow or agree to. 

"She's a genius. I knew she was special. Take Marguerite out without my permission again and I will kill you, did you hear her? She's learning scales. Listen." Erik is excited, he runs through scales, and the kitten responds. Raoul recoils at the threat and then feels odd, he's threatened in the same sentence a kitten is being praised.

"I'll remember to ask next time, I didn't think it would be a big deal, and she's smart for sure." Raoul rubs his nose and sniffs.

"She's not your daughter, you do not have any right to her. I'll keep Ayesha around the Opera. I'm sure the more exposure, the more she'll learn, the better she'll be for it." Erik is a very proud furry parent.

"Maybe she can vocal coach Carlotta." Raoul rubs his eyes and sneezes.

"Ayesha can replace her." Erik comes around and kisses his precious little lady.

Mm mm.

Nope.

Raoul rubs his nose and his eyes blink and he's unable to keep the tears of irritation at bay. No cats at the Opera! There are some things, that cannot be allowed. Erik picks up Ayesha and continues to praise her.

"Is that what you wanted, **Raoul** for?" Raoul asks miserably. Erik snaps his head at him.

"Raoul?" Erik tilts his head.

"This isn't a **manager** moment?" Raoul scratches his nose.

"What does this have to do with your position?" Erik gestures to the room.

"So, you're not talking to ' **Raoul** ',"

"Why are you speaking in third person?" Erik steps forward and touches Raoul's forehead. 

"I'm confused. So, you're not asking **me** , **Raoul** , the **manager** and part **owner** of the Opera, to allow Ayesha to, whatever?"

"What are you talking about? I don't think you're using your medicine properly. You sound confused, mad almost."

"I'm not the one who wants their **cat** to **star** in the Opera!" Raoul snaps and touches Ayesha a little too hard, who squeals something fierce. 

Erik slaps Raoul, he holds back, **a lot.**

 **"Ow."** Raoul rubs his face.

"You're not thinking clearly. Go lie down." Erik points to the sofa against the wall across from the piano. Raoul hunches his shoulders and walks over, he feels pathetic and scolded and dislikes it.

He lies down and Erik places Ayesha on the piano before walking over to Raoul.

"I told you to start the injections. The pills and the draughts are playing havoc with your mind."

"Yeah, it's the allergy pills. Not the cat owner." Raoul mumbles.

"What was that?" Erik asks, his voice a warning.

"I'll see my doctor tomorrow about the injections!"

"Good boy."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was trying to find info on Ayesha, because I forgot what she looked like/breed and I found this beautiful passage from our Erik about his precious feline:
> 
> "Ayesha changed my life. Over fifteen thousand kilos of salted horsemeat had been stored at the Opera, and supplies were not yet entirely exhausted. I could not bring myself to consume horseflesh, but I stole for Ayesha and stayed out of the room while she ate to control my revulsion."
> 
> and then  
> " . . . if there had been no horsemeat, and rats, she would have eaten human flesh; I would have killed, if necessary, to feed my precious, precious little lady."
> 
> I forgot about that. Personally, I prefer Sasha, his doggo.  
> anyone else? Have a Erik pet preference? Let me know! Be fun to discuss!


	38. That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philly has to put on his manager hat and step it up while Raoul is out of service. A very special person comes home.

* * *

Raoul made the unfortunate discovery that he’s highly allergic to a compound that is in the allergy medicine that’s included in the injection. Something he had not anticipated. Raoul is in the hospital, his heart stopped for two minutes, he’s been in and out of consciousness for the last three days.

His brother finds it annoying. Raoul has always been the dramatic one. Raoul fell off his horse when he was 12, broke his ankle and ruined the rest of that Summer’s vacation because their mother made Philly into Raoul’s personal medical assistant. Being forced to take care of your little brother interferes with your sexual game and Philly will always be bitter about that summer.

And here they go again, Raoul is sick, he’s ruining Philly's Sorelli game, because now instead of being able to fuck around, he has to step up and take Raoul’s place at the Opera as a responsible manager, because dumbass did not hire a second.

“I don’t want to do this.” Philly says to the empty room. He throws down a pen dramatically and pouts aggressively. He’s angry. He doesn’t want to be here.

He asked Erik if he would consider a position of manager.

\---

* * *

“That would adversely interfere with my income,” Erik’s voice bounces around the enclosed space. They are in box five. Philly felt that it would be a natural and fitting meeting place for the Phantom.

“Only cowards hide in the shadows!” Philly hisses. He instantly regrets it, as Erik’s hand suddenly appears at his throat and he is walked backwards and pressed into the wall.

“I may have misheard you there.” Erik smiles angrily behind his mask; he breathes into Philly’ neck.

“You are beautiful person and an asset to the Opera.” Philly gasps. This appeases the Phantom; he kisses Philly neck with his cool masked lips and goes back to the shadows.

“Thought so, my darling.”

Philly hangs his head and reaches for his heart. He slides down to the floor and slowly regains his composure. He finds newfound respect for his brother, being able to handle **_that._**

**_\---_**

* * *

On the fourth day Raoul wakes up and stays awake for a few minutes. He does not know where he is or how he got to where it is he is. He pokes at the thin tubes in his hands and tries to pull them out. A nurse fights with him before Raoul loses the energy.

"Welcome back." Erik smooths out Raoul's hair and holds his hand. Raoul is still confused and does not have much energy in him. He cannot lift his head, it feels like he is weighed down by bricks, rocks and cinderblocks. He winces as he fails miserably at raising his head to look over at Erik. It's equally difficult to look up.

"Am I dying?" His voice is raspy and weak. He swallows and he winces. The pain is intense. Did he swallow a knife too? 

"You technically died," Erik's voice is soothing and Raoul likes it, wants to hear more of it and tries to move towards its sonorous beauty, but his body is heavy and in pain.

"I know you," Raoul says in a kind of drunk sleepy way. Erik nods.

"You're allergic to the medicine they gave you for your allergies. You stupid boy, why'd you do that?" Erik squeeze's Raoul's hand and he tries to keep anger from his voice.

"I have to go to the Opera. I have to do the things," Raoul tries to find strength to leave the bed. 

"You're in no condition to do anything, Leto," Erik is amused, he likes that Raoul is in such a weakened state. He can practice and show off his altruism by taking care of his pathetic lover.

"I have to go." Raoul tries to sit up, but he cannot lift his head.

"Not today," Erik's voice is cool and soothing like a pool of healing water. Raoul wishes he could bottle it.

"O.G. Have to," Raoul trails off as he slips off into slumber. Erik frowns as Raoul referred to, "O.G," and they should really be past that. Erik is about to leave when Raoul captures his attentions once more.

"Erik," Raoul moans softly. Erik leans over kisses his forehead.

* * *

Philly finds the note. He’s not sure why Erik is still sending notes. He reads through it and puts it aside in his thoughts and aside on the desk. He has other things to worry about, like Sorelli and how to impress her. He’s in charge while Raoul is out, so he can do all the things he feels Raoul slacks off at.

Like proper casting.

\--

* * *

“You can’t change the casting! These are my players! I know what they are capable of!” Reyer bares his teeth and spits hot fire. He does not care who Philly is related to; this will not stand.

“I can and I am. Sorelli is the lead, she and Christine will switch.” 

Reyer is shaking with fury.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You do not know what you’re doing.” Reyer hisses. The rest of the players stand in idle fear and silence.

“It’ll be fun.”

“You are toying with powers beyond your ken,” Reyer can feel hot tears of rage and frustration form and fall down his cheeks,

“I’ll live.”

"We'll see about that." Reyer whispers bitterly.

* * *

The costumes, Carlotta and the other wardrobe assistants discover the next morning, have been destroyed. They are no longer recognizable. There was a time where Carlotta herself had been guilty of such a crime, but not anymore, not this time. They know who did this.

"The Opera Ghost." Carlotta holds onto her crucifix and prays to God in heaven that all will end well.

"What are we going to do? We may not have enough time to rebuild!" A young thing cries out. Carlotta hisses at her to be silent.

"Do what we can, do not waste time we do not have comparing about it!" The others scatter and begin to do what they can.

* * *

Sorelli storms into the office, she is pale and shaking. Philly wants to hold her, whisper things into her sweet, delicate ears.

"Switch our parts back." Her voice is shaky. She clenches her fists and she refuses to look Philly in the eyes.

"Why?"

"I don't want it. Switch us back."

"Is it that manager of yours, Reyer? Look, he's afraid of flies. Don't worry about him." Philly smiles and sorts through the mail he has no intention of reading. He adds it to the Raoul pile.

" _It's not him I'm afraid of!"_ Sorelli shrieks. She storms out of the office. Philly exhales. He promised Raoul he would also, keep up Erik's charade of being a ghost, but it's really starting to grow beyond. Sane and mature people stop playing childish games. They grow up. Erik needs to grow up.

* * *

Two sandbags drop from the sky and nearly kill Meg and Jess. They were able to move out of the way in the nick of time. Reyer is about to pull out all of his hair. Raoul isn't there to keep his crazy at bay and Jules is too busy with last minute wedding stuff.

The cast walks off stage and refuse to work until their safety is guaranteed. Philly fires two stagehands he blames for the near fatalities.

" _You what is behind this_!" Reyer screeches. He feels like he may combust. He tries to count and he walks off stage fuming.

* * *

All the food has been removed from the fridge and placed in the center of the floor. The cabinets are open, the dishes have been removed and stacked neatly on the counters and floor.

Philly finds an animal carcass waiting for him in bed. Philly throws out his sheets and calls a locksmith, the locks cannot be changed until tomorrow. Philly sits in his chair, pistol in hand. He does not sleep a wink. When he feels himself start to drift off to sleep, he hears a soft, sad, delicate song. 

There is something chilling about the melody. It terrifies him. He cannot sleep. He keeps the lights on all night.

* * *

Philly has to force himself to go to the office in the morning. He's jumpy, he does not trust anyone and he panics at any movement. He locks the door of his office as soon as he enters, he moves cabinet in front of the door for extra security.

He walks around to the chair at the desk and collapses. He rests his head on the desk and fights back the urge to cry.

It is soft at first. Does not fully register, so he shrugs it off, ignores it. It grows louder, subtly, but steadily. Cold, cruel, absence of happiness and mirth, laughter. Philly grabs his ears and tries to think of better places and times.

"Are we ready to apologize?" The voice asks. Philly nods, he does not dare to look at the Phantom, he nods, the Phantom smirks and he kisses and pets Philly lovingly.

"Say it," the Phantom asks, he raises Philly head.

"I apologize."

"Good boy," he praises and pets Philly once more roughly before the Phantom takes something from his pocket and drops it onto the desk. Once he feels he is safe, Philly looks at what the Phantom left him: a dog biscuit. Philly throws it against the wall.

* * *

Raoul is happy. He gets released tomorrow. He cannot stand to be in the hospital anymore. Reyer's reports of what's been happening have left him bitter and sad. He begged Erik to leave Reyer in peace, a wish that Erik honored. He did not bother or seek Reyer out for insidious amusement. He could not protect his brother however.

* * *

"He must be taught and trained. If he acts out, he will be punished, his behavior corrected. I will not let him slight me because of our relationship. He is lucky I do not kill him on the spot."

Raoul would have protested, but Erik shoved a spoonful of green Jell-o into his mouth. Erik has been playing up the caring lover.

* * *

Raoul did his best. Raoul wishes that Erik did not see others his unruly pets and left Raoul questioning how Erik truly views Raoul. Is he a sexy sort of dog? The idea makes Raoul ill. He shudders. Ew.

"Something wrong?" Erik asks, he looks up from reading. Raoul must have done something to earn his attention. Before Raoul knows he's saying, this escapes his lips:

"I don't bark!" Raoul blurts and then slaps his mouth. Erik is amused by this and tilts his head. He moves to Raoul's side and touches his forehead.

"What drugs are you on, Leto?"

"Cats!" Raoul shouts suddenly. He paws at Erik and he has no idea what he's doing. Erik takes Raoul's writs and holds them and waits for Raoul to calm the eff down. He does. Raoul relaxes and Erik lets him go.

"I did not touch Ayesha before I came here. I changed my clothing." Erik tugs at his shirt.

"Man-cat god," Raoul says before he falls backwards onto his pillows. Erik exhales and he watches his lover with annoyance.

"Leto, I told you, I am **_not_ **a **_cat_**." Erik will never understand where that conspiracy theory came from. Probably Reyer. 

Raoul giggles.

"He wear mask to hide face. Don't pet me!" Raoul pulls the blanket to cover his head. Erik blames the drugs. He knows they are good, he took some for his personal use.

Erik pulls the blankets back and leans his masked face in, just barely touching Raoul's face.

"I am no cat. This is trying my patience." Erik taps Raoul's forehead twice. Raoul eee's and nods. Erik smooths out Raoul's hospital gown.

"I have to go soon, do you need anything?"

"Copulations!"

Erik kisses Raoul.

"No. You're not in the proper state for that." Erik stands up straight and goes to gather his things.

* * *

As soon as Erik moves through the magic hidden door he is punched in the mask. He is too stunned to move at first. He looks over at the fool who is asking for death.

Toni.

Her arms at her sides. She is fuming with fury. She waits for Erik to recover before she starts forward and starts slapping, punching and hissing.

"You son of a bitch! You didn't think I'd find out! You almost **_killed_ **her with a sand bag to scare some stupid manager! Then she tells me you **_chloroformed_ **her?!" Toni uses all her strength and energy.

 _"I trusted you! You promised me you'd change!_ " She squeals, it breaks her voice. 

"Mother?!" Meg runs to the sound of her mother's screeching, banshee screaming. Toni crawls over to the magic door, presses something, and it closes leaving Meg alone on the other side.


	39. Toni

* * *

**2008**

Toni is washing the dishes loudly and aggressively in the hopes that it drowns out Denny’s incessant prattle of things that are best left alone. Denny has the stick, and he has yet to learn not to poke the monster. Denny challenges and speaks his mind. He knows there will be consequences and what is even worse, he is prepared to accept them.

“I’m not going anywhere. You know I’m right. You see it too, and that makes both of us just as guilty for not stepping in and protecting her.” He is speaking directly into her ear. Toni spins around and tries to walk away, Denny grabs her, he is not one for physical or aggressive moves, and this is new. Toni is startled and that is an opening for Denny to continue.

“You’re right, he doesn’t hit her, but some of the worst abuse is mental and emotional.” Denny takes a step back, letting her go. Toni does not want to deal this; she hears loud uncoordinated orchestral instruments blaring inside her head. It Is deafening, she cuffs her ears and tries to find her center.

“Toni.”

Toni moves forward, she turns to face him, her body is shaking.

“What will you have me do? He loves her.” Toni moans miserably. She reaches out to the counter for strength, her legs are becoming jelly and she cannot hold her body up.

“He doesn’t love her, he loves the **_power_** he has over her, the attention she gives him. He is a narcissist. Not just petty or vain, but an honest to god malignant narcissist.”

“You’re a psychiatrist now?” Toni is looking at the floor, she cannot bring herself to face him.

“Erik’s a sadist, he becomes extremely violent when he doesn’t get what he wants from others or life in general, he manipulates every situation towards his favor and benefit. He destroyed your friendships because you weren’t paying him enough attention!”

Toni gestures violently for him to be silent.

“Erik loves differently.” Toni’s voice is small. Denny throws his hands in the air. He blows air like a wounded animal.

“They weren’t my friends,” her voice is strained, Denny wonders who she is trying to convince, herself or him,” they weren’t good for me,” Toni grabs her hands and squeezes.

“You were vibrant and popular. You were a beacon. When you were on stage, you became the entire universe. Erik found a center in you and **_consumed_** it. You are a shell of what you were a year ago.” Denny is without malice, he is in pain and mourning for the life lost, for the Toni that died.

He walks towards her side and takes her hands. They stare at each other in silence for what feels like a hundred years.

“Mama, Denny! Look at what I found!” The cute little four-year old blond in pigtail braids runs into the room, she stops in front of them and reveals her bounty: a baby mouse. Toni intakes breath sharply before she slaps Meg’s hands. The mouse scurries off, Toni picks Meg up and roughly washes her hands thoroughly.

“That was my friend,” Meg laments, she lost another one. She turns to Denny, he’s frowning too.

“That is not your friend, that is a dirty creature, you will not play with it!” Toni scolds.

“We’ll find you a friend,” Denny promises.

“Papa says no one wants to be my friend, but you’re my friend!” Meg is bright like the sun and Denny wants to hold her and run into the woods, away from this prison.

“Your Papa is wrong.” Denny is firm. Meg eyes dilate and her mouth opens like an O. Denny gives Toni a look, she waves her hand and crosses her arms. She turns her body away from him.

“Come on, Meggy. Let’s have an adventure,” Denny takes Meg’s hand.

“We’ll save the prince from the dragon!” She pulls Denny along and chatters about dragons, the power of pink and horseies.

\--

* * *

“What if we sent Meg to a boarding school. The education would be more, I don’t know. I feel like it would be best. She deserves to be properly educated, the **_best_** education.” Toni says all of this over her newspaper. She uses it as a shield, so she does not have to see how he will react. She has read the same sentence five times and she has no idea what it means nor is she retaining any information.

“No.” Simple and direct. Erik does not waste time or words. Toni crumples the edges of the paper and winces. She tries to read a different sentence.

“There are some brilliant institutions.” Toni dares to peer over the paper before she finds sanctuary in an article about the local market. Erik leans over, he takes the newspaper from her hands.

“No.”

He leans into her, kisses her nose with his masked lips before he taps the top of her head. He returns to his chair and turns his attention back to his mug of coffee.

Toni blinks several times and touches her nose. She needs a minute before she realizes she is no longer holding the newspaper, she laughs a bit, she is very silly today. She looks at her hands, still in the same position of holding paper.

Meg runs into the dining room and climbs onto a chair. Denny joins a few seconds later.

“You’re up early.” Erik watches little Meggy as he drinks slowly from his mug, his piercing eyes not leaving her. She smiles bright and wide.

“I’m going on an adventure! Denny is taking me to a park!” Meg is very animated. She cannot keep still.

“Really.” Erik turns to Denny, who ignores him. He leans into Meg and smiles at her.

“Let’s get our shoes and coat.” She does not need to be told twice, slides out of the chair, and runs to find her shoes and coat.

“She’s not a prisoner, she should be at the park playing with friends.” Denny turns to Erik; he doesn’t flinch at those angry eyes.

\--

* * *

Toni does something she would not normally do, and she waits outside Meg’s bedroom door. She leans against the wall but keeps her ear at the door. Erik likes to have his time with Meg and prefers that their time is just that, **_theirs_**. Meg and Erik only.

“. . . only need Papa.”

Toni bites her hand, to keep herself from speaking, she finds the strength to restrain herself from storming in and taking Meg right then and there.

Does this mantra happen every night? How long? Toni does her best to fight back tears. She will fix this; she will undo the damage.

The door moves and Toni tries to look nonchalant, like she is walking, not listening. Erik says nothing, he gives Toni a long and intense once over before moving on.

\--

* * *

**2011**

Toni hears the shower start. She tried to ignore it, when she first noticed it after his return. Something caught in the light, a sequin from his mask or dress. He’s very dramatic and his clothing is embellished with all manner of bits and baubles. His mask is no different, he has Meg and herself decorate them.

In the corner of her eye, he passes as he picks up Meg, something drips from his dark robe. She shakes her head; she did not really see anything. Meg giggles and is happy at the attention Erik is giving her, he takes her to her room.

\--

* * *

Toni waits for Denny to come home. She can be wrong about things, sometimes she wants to be wrong, likes to be wrong. She waits in the dark in the kitchen. She feels cold spread throughout her body.

\--

* * *

She can hear the shower; she looks down as she walks to the bathroom. Erik takes great care as he disrobes. Toni flushes, she is not embarrassed to see him naked, but it feels different. She looks away and tries to ignore the blood. He steps into the shower and the blood becomes one with the water as it runs off him.

Toni stares at the drain, the water swirls, and swirls. She feels dizzy. She holds out her hand and presses against the wall for support.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Toni does not know she’s speaking at first, the words startle her, she blinks several times.

Erik says nothing as he lets the water cascade. Toni will not cry. Her lips are trembling, she cannot that. She tries to force control, but her lips vibrate. She turns her back towards him. She feels sick, bile rises In her throat and she swallows it back.

It’s too much for her legs and she lowers herself to sit on the floor. Toni lost her only friend she had left. It’s up to her to protect Meg from monsters now. Toni weeps silently, she holds her mouth and mourns her friend.

\--

* * *

**Now**

Erik lets Toni exhaust all her energy. He does not fight her, does not push her, speak to her. He allows her to attack, punch, hiss, kick, slap, and scratch him. She collapses into him when she can no longer move. Her breathing is haggard, her mouth is covered with sweat and spit.

Erik brushes her loose hair back; he leans forward and kisses her forehead. He adjusts his position; she is now laying across his lap as he runs his hands through her hair. Erik removes a handkerchief from his pocket and he gently wipes her face.

He hums an old song, an ancient song, a love song. He holds onto her gently, comfortingly. He hums his song, he coos her, he soothes her. Her anger and hatred are spent and drained.

Toni grabs onto him like a child needing that comfort and love. When the song ends, she sits up abruptly. She needs to hear it again; she pleads with her eyes.

He does nothing. He remains stoic and silent.

There is a haze that massages Toni’s brain. She cannot think or see straight, it is difficult for her to focus on any thought.

There is a kind of sludge that is invisible that takes over the mind and body. You are vaguely aware of what’s happening around you, but at the same time, that sludge is thick and keeps you apart.

Thoughts are confused and empty. Toni wants to get up, to do something, anything. All she can do in this moment is stare stupefied at her husband.

She looks at her hands, then back at him.

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

The door opens and Meg steps back, she’s not sure what to expect on the other side. She’s been holding her breath and was too scared to move from that spot.

Papa is holding mother up, who looks like she’s gone ten rounds with a pissed off bear. Meg eeps and moves out of their way.

“What happened?” Meg bites her nails as she watches them walk away.

“Go to bed,” Papa is fatigued, he’s moving slow, he’s not one for these laggard movements.

“Is mother going to be okay? What happened?”

“ ** _Now_**.”

Meg runs past them and to her room.

* * *

Erik helps her onto the bed. He is gentle and takes great care he lays her down. Erik takes off her shoes, places them on the ground and massages her feet before he moves his hands up her leg. He lets her leg drop and he walks around to other side and sits on the bed next to her. He takes her hand and plays with her fingers.

“I warned you that this was a mistake. You are not ready to be out there on your own. I had to let you ruin yourself, you stopped listening to reason. What if you attacked someone from the Opera? You would have been arrested and then committed to an institution. It’s only happenstance I found you before you could wander off.”

Erik kisses her fingers.

“My anger was with you and what you did,” Toni whispers, she turns onto her side.

"You believed the lie of a grounded teenager. There was a mishap at the Opera involving sandbags, but nothing came of it. No injuries. Marguerite's lied to divide us before. You know her mind is idle and gets bored."

Toni closes her eyes. This is not right. Meg would not lie about this. She had to be pressed, it was not freely given information. She didn't want Erik to get in trouble.

"No, this time you did this." Toni wants to take her hand from him, but lacks the strength.

"You're tired." He leans forward and kisses her eyes, nose, lips.

"You start at the Opera in the morning, go to sleep, Nettles. You need all your strength." He kisses the top of her head. Toni closes her eyes tightly. His lips tickle her ear and neck.

"I love you."

He stands up and turns his back to her. Panic sets in, it strikes at Toni's heart. She sits up and grabs at him. He does not move. 

"Don't leave me." Toni's voce cracks. The dam could not be held back any longer, the twigs were not enough support, Tears fall down her cheeks.

Erik looks at her hand that's holding his wrist, he places his hand over it, he squeezes roughly. He removes it before he turns to her. He walks back to the bed and Toni grabs him, pulls him into her.

* * *


	40. Cousin Lissie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More things happen

* * *

* * *

Cousin Lissie is sweet, but she is a lot. She is tiresome, she must describe every detail of everything. Raoul does his best to avoid her because of this. Philly bought Lissie and her sister a plane ticket to visit them for the holiday season.

Raoul is a good host. He showed her around the Opera and introduced her to the cast. He kept his cool and composure despite her boring droll and smiled through it all.

“This is your office?” Lissie opens her mouth in surprise, she walks around and touches every surface.

“It is.” Raoul watches her with increasing annoyance.

“Is this your furniture?” She taps the chair and the presses firmly on the cushion.

“No, the previous management order this.” Raoul wants to push her away the chair.

“In my office we were not allowed to have a choice in our office furniture. They had a deal with showroom set pieces, so when they were finished, we would receive them. One part of the office is called, Wedding. I’m not sure, there is no arch or podium. Do you know where they procured these?” Lissie places her hand on the back of the chair.

“I do not.” Raoul pinches the bridge of his nose and rolls his shoulders.

“Is there a performance tonight?” Lissie takes a seat on the chair, but then moves lifts her butt off the chair and hovers and remains like that.

“There is.” Raoul does not think he can survive an entire Opera with his cousin as his companion.

“Ooh, I would love to attend an Opera. It sounds so romantic.” Lissie swoons. She closes her eyes and bites her lips, her cheeks flushing. Raoul does his best to resist.

“I may be able to get you tickets,” Raoul’s face hurts from his smile.

“In one of those fancy private boxes,” her voice is laced with honey.

“Mm. I don’t know if we have any box seats left.” Raoul puts his hands behind his back and squeezes his palm until he cannot take the pain.

“Philly says you know one of the subscribers,” Lissie opens her eyes and pouts.

“He does not like to share his box. I will ask but I doubt he will agree.” Raoul goes to the desk, takes out a piece of paper, writes something and he leaves the room. He goes to the steps that lead to Box Five, he leaves the note, where he always leaves the notes, he sarcastically salutes and then leaves.

_He’ll say no, he’s with annoyed me._

Raoul smiles and he enters the office.

“We shall wait and find out!” Raoul claps his hands together.

\--

* * *

**_You may use my box tonight. Are you attending the Holiday Gala this year?_ **

Raoul wants to crumple the note up and set it on fire. Of all the times for Erik to be cool and feel the sharing and caring vibe.

“We can use Box Five,” Raoul does his best to not sound miserable. His cousin squeals with delight.

“Oh, cousin, this will be wonderful. Do you know the story behind this Opera? The plot sounds most intriguing.”

“I try to do my own research before I attend unfamiliar shows.”

\--

* * *

“I can’t watch the Opera with you,” Reyer says. It’s not open for debate. Reyer is in Manager Mode. Raoul needs someone in his corner to keep him from dying from boredom.

“I mean, can’t you?” Raoul pouts, he could technically order Reyer to watch with him.

“I have to be backstage. I’m **working**.”

“Please?” Raoul is getting desperate.

“Take your boyfriend, I’m busy!” Reyer hisses and shoos Raoul away.

\--

* * *

“You son of bitch!” Raoul cries out, his arms spread wide. As soon as he spies Erik, he loses it. He throws the duck at him.

“That’s right, feel the duck’s ire!” Raoul eyes are on fire and he is trembling. Erik is calm. He walks forward, places the duck on the desk, he takes a seat, leans forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his legs and his palms prop his chin up, and he waits.

“The one time, the one time I needed you!” Raoul pulls at his hair. He places his hands on the desk and leans forward.

“Betrayed! Why didn’t you say no! Tell me to fuck off and die! Hmm? You could have! But you didn’t _! Do you hate me_?”

Erik drums his fingers against his knuckles, still waiting.

“This is grounds for divorce.”

Raoul pushes off from the desk.

“You think Meri is annoying? Ha! You have no idea. You are toying with powers beyond your ken!” Raoul still cannot even. He paces. Erik watches him closely. Philly enters. He leans against the door frame.

“Raoul, she’s not that bad. You’re making too much of it.” Philly waves at Erik before he turns his head to Raoul, who stalks towards him.

“How can you lie like that?” Raoul’s face is changing colors. Philly flicks his fingers at him.

“She’s family,” Philly turns to Erik,” How do you deal with this?” Raoul sticks out his tongue aggressively before turning away.

“Context?” Erik asks

“Our cousin Lissie is visiting for the holidays. Raoul thinks she is niggling. “Philly explains.

“And you! You said yes!” Raoul points violently at Erik.

“I take it you said Lou-Lou here could use your box?” Philly shakes his head at his brother’s antics.

“I did. That is why you are dismayed? If you did not want to use my box, why did you ask?” Raoul clears the space between them.

“You’re supposed to say no! Sometimes, I need you to say no to me! You used to love being in control of my free will and agency!”

“You hated it and threatened to end things if I continued to behave that way.” Erik is using his calm, but I am very displeased, voice.

“Well, sometimes do it! You should know when it is okay do it! You’re supposed to be my partner and you should be able to just know, when I need certain things.” Raoul grabs Erik’s shirt and shakes it. Erik looks down and takes Raoul’s hand.

“Are you quite finished?”

Raoul nods, he falls against the desk.

“It would be bad manners for you to rescind the invitation and use of my private box. You will have to suffer through it. I came here for other matters; are you attending the Christmas Eve Gala?” Erik pulls out a nail file from the air and files Raoul nails.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Raoul watches Erik.

“Accompany me.” Erik continues to work on Raoul’s nails.

“I can do that.”

* * *

The Gala is nice. There are different food stations set up, a wait staff that weaves in between everyone. It’s just the Opera Company, the staff of the theatre and their families. No need to whore out for donations.

Raoul is enjoying the eggnog; Antoinette steps up to him looking rather serious and severe.

“Has he sung for you yet.” She has her lips tightly closed together and she looks pained and pale.

“Sung for me, Erik? No.”

Toni blinks.

“No?”

“No.” Raoul shakes his head.

“Really.” She is in disbelief.

“Should he have? I am not a duet person or sing myself. I’m a paid patron for the arts, I am not an artist.” Raoul explains.

“Music is more intimate to him than sex. He played music for Denny before he had him move in. Erik, has not offered or asked your opinions on his compositions?”

“Nope. Maybe he does not like me that much,” Raoul jokes, Toni shakes her head.

“No, he talks about you, asked to have you. This is most unusual.” Something catches Toni’s attention; she makes her excuses and leaves Raoul.

* * *

Erik eventually comes out from the shadows and finds Raoul, who waves enthusiastically. The alcohol is about to hit him hard. Erik takes Raoul’s glass for himself.

“Let’s pace now.” Erik empties the glass and places it on a tray as a waiter walks by.

“Toni thinks it weird you don’t sing for me.” Raoul blurts out. Erik takes a glass off another tray.

“The timing wasn’t right, that’s why I wanted you to come tonight.” Erik swirls the wine in his glass.

“Why do people do that, it’s so pretentious. What are you doing?” Raoul feels his cheeks flush.

“I drink wine properly. Are you drunk already?” Erik pouts behind his mask.

“No!” Raoul protests.

"Let's try to keep to the proper decorum. " Erik scolds

"Erik, has anyone told you, you're That Guy." Raoul speech is not quite slurring, but it's definitely not cursive yet.

"That's how you have me listed in your mobile device." Erik looks upwards annoyed.

"Erik, you're **_a lot._** " Raoul touches Erik's arm and leans into him for support.

* * *

Erik eventually is able to bring Raoul to the Pink Room, away from the other guests. Erik pulls up a chair to the piano and helps Raoul take a seat, he motions for him to stay, Raoul does, Erik pets him for being good and coos. Erik then takes his place at the piano and performs one of his original compositions.

Raoul slides out of the chair onto the floor. The masterfulness of Erik's voice and melody take him to a different place. He feels his blood pulsate, his spirits are lifted, he can hear, see and feel God. Nothing outside the music exists, everything is pure. The colors and sounds mix and become one.

Raoul will do anything to keep this beauty, this euphorbia. He cannot control his body, as he crawls towards the music, he wants to kiss, bathe, wrap himself around it.

It stops.

It is painful, like something has been ripped, torn from him body. He feels empty, a stark comparison to his previous fullness.

"What'd you think?" Erik runs his fingers through Raoul's hair. Raoul is hugging Erik's lap and weeping.

"I want it back," Raoul cries.

"Mm. Do you?" Erik massages Raoul's scalp with his nails.

"Yes," he is desperate, his mouth covered with spit and sweat.

"Live with me, and you may hear often as I like." Erik says into Raoul's ear and nuzzles him.

"Okay!"


	41. New Year, New Drama

“So, what’s happening?”

Reyer is pretty sure that at this point, they should add a table and chairs to the utility closet, and an espresso machine. This room is used so often now, they might as well decorate it and truly use it as their safe talking crisis space.

“I may have agreed to cohabitate with Erik.” Raoul rubs his face.

“And you changed your mind?” Reyer is calculating the budget for the coming year, what they would need to switch so they could afford the table, chairs, and espresso machine for this space.

“I don’t think I was sober enough to really know what I was doing.” Raoul says though his hands, he feels so stupid. He whines.

“You were drunk. He asked you when you were drunk.” Reyer pulls a face. Raoul nods.

“Tell him you were drunk, and you didn’t know what was happening. You don’t have to move in if you don’t want to.”

Raoul whines and groans some more. He hangs his head. He does not wanna.

“If you don’t want to live with him, you have to tell him.” Reyer is using his manger voice.

Raoul shakes his head and whimpers.

“Raoul, if you’re afraid of your romantic lead, then you need to really evaluate your relationship and ask yourself, are you happy? Is this healthy? Is this what I want?”

Raoul closes his eyes and bites his upper lip. Reyer is right. He is always right. Raoul pouts.

“Can I text,” Reyer boos, and Raoul sighs,” I think a text,” Reyer errs,” fine. I’ll a send note!” Reyer slaps Raoul.

“You know what you have to do.”

“Mm. Lick rust!” Raoul makes a childish face.

“Oh, suck a duck and talk to your boyfriend.”  
\--

* * *

Raoul decides to try to clear his mind and watches the rehearsals. The ballet is particularly interesting that day, considering Antoinette Giry is chasing a man he does not know with her cane.

“These are professional dancers, not whores. I will bleed you!” Toni shrieks. The pitiful creature runs past Raoul and out of the theater. The ballet rats gathered.

“Antoinette, what’s up?” Raoul asks.

“Some fool thought that my dancers were prostitutes. And did I tell you, you were taking a break!” Toni uses her cane with full force and the dancers spread a part and begin to practice their dance.

“How many years of ballet have you’ve taken? It looks like the combination is a year! Not acceptable! “Toni strides over to her dancers. Reyer comes out holding a binder.

“You have an hour and then I want to see the ballet,” Reyer announces, he reads something and goes backstage.

“You heard him, one hour!”

“So, everyone is busy, so I’m going go now,” Raoul says to no one and points behind him.

\--

* * *

“Raoul!”

“Christine.”

They stand and stare at each other and the ground. Raoul rubs the back of his neck and Christine rubs her hands nervously.

“So, um. I did not mean anything, when I. I um. Ha,” Christine trails off awkwardly. She turns her head to the side, unable to look at him.

“Nothing happened, so there’s no reason to,” Raoul sighs and he pulls at his hair.

“Right,” Christine says, still not quite able to meet his gaze.

“It’s a weird moment between friends!” Raoul laughs and Christine nods, her cheeks flushing a bit.

“Yes, just a, awkward handshake, but with my mouth,” Christine closes her eyes in embarrassment and groans.

“Exactly!” Raoul laughs forcefully.

They each make their excuses and go off in different directions.

\--

* * *

Raoul eeps when he enters his office. Toni and Meg are waiting for him.

“Hello,” He feels very unsure and he does not take his eyes off of them as he goes to desk and sits down.

“We’re going to lunch.”

“Oh?” Raoul asks, Meg and Toni nod.

\--

* * *

“He asked you to move in,” Toni drawls, she is trying to speak slowly, plainly and it is hurting. Raoul nods, he was able to pick the place to dine at and he chose the closest pizza place.

“I may have been a bit inebriated when he asked? And I do not remember having control over my brain or mouth, words just kept coming out of me.” Raoul picks at his pizza. Meg is just chilling and enjoying the French fries.

Toni is looking grave today. Toni stares into her salad. She frowns and pokes at the vegetables.

“He has a power, he can hypnotize you, have you do things, control you,” Toni speaks softly, she does not look at Raoul as she speaks, her shoulders are hunched, she is not the prime, proper, confidant ballet mistress of the Opera Populaire, but a defeated woman, a sad, downtrodden creature who has seen too much.

“Do you want to move in?” Meg asks, she munches on fries and is unfazed by her mother’s affect and words.

“At the time I wanted nothing more.” Raoul slides the food away from him.

“Give it a trial run, a week. See if you are happy, that it is what you want. Don’t write it off,” Toni strength is slowly coming back.

“Our place is awesome, we have a home cinema and junk,” Meg is cheerful. Raoul nods.

* * *

“This is your room,” Toni nods. Raoul walks forward, Meg jumps from the hallway.

“It’s next to mine, it’ll be fun, we can have walkie talkies and send and set up coded messages, like spies,” Meg gives him a thumbs up.

“Meg, set up a movie for us, your choice, we’ll join you in a minute.” Meg does not need to be told twice and skips off. Toni enters and shuts the door behind her.

“Have you read it?” Her voice a harsh whisper, she is wringing her hands together, she looks around the room, her eyes darting to different spaced and objects.

"The diary? Yeah, I haven't finished. I have it in my bag." Raoul shakes it and Toni hisses.

"Don't leave that out in the open, he cannot know you have it or are reading it. I thought when we left France, I would leave his ghost." Toni traces her fingertips against the dresser.

"You're like him, you don't do things you don't want to do and challenge. Denny did that often. It took Erik a long time to strip him of his defenses, to wear him down, control him, own him. Much longer than the others, or me," Toni bites her finger.

"That's ominous."

"It's truth."

"I don't want that."

Raoul sits on the bed.

"He calls you Leto."

Raoul nods.

"He calls you Nettles."

"Don't you see? Don't understand?" Toni laughs bitterly, she turns to Raoul, who is confused.

"He took away your name."


	42. Midas

* * *

It is dark in these woods, as Raoul goes further down the path the world becomes gray and hazy. His vison is impaired and soon he is blind. Raoul reaches out and tries to find his way.

“There you are,” Raoul is grabbed and pulled through something. He can see again. He is in a black void, but there is a light.

“Where are we?” Raoul looks around. He does not recognize this place. He can see nothing beyond the small space he occupies.

“What do you mean?” Raoul turns his head to the voice, but he walks into a thick webbing. He pulls it from him and panic sets in. He runs forward and screams.

Raoul stops. Erik is ahead, silhouetted by the light and shadow. He is dressed the nines like usual, a dapper tuxedo, while gloves, face entirely concealed by a white porcelain mask.

“Leto,” He speaks softly, the name an old melody. Raoul is drawn to the music.

He turns slowly and holds out his hand. Raoul stares, his heart is racing. Raoul walks forward and he accepts his offered hand.

A shrill scream pierces his eardrums. Raoul turns away and then he feels pain. Raoul touches his sides; his fingers are covered with blood.

“I love you,” Raoul looks down and Erik twists the blade.

\--

* * *

“Aaah!” Raoul screams and falls out of his seat. The room is dark, and it takes Raoul a minute to remember he is watching a movie in the home cinema. Raoul turns his attention to the screen, instant a regret. A man is tied to a chair while spiders are creepy crawling towards him.

“It was in the name, sweet thing.” Erik gently caresses the back of Meg’s head; she has buried her face into his chest to hide from the spiders on screen.

“ _Spider Baby._ Why did you choose this?” Toni has a hand covering her eyes, she is not looking at the screen either.

“Abuse, obviously,” Raoul mutters, he finds himself back to his seat.

“That’s not amusing jest,” Erik says snappishly.

“Sorry.”

* * *

“This is all kinds of out of my comfort zone,” Raoul says as he watches the tailor take measurements. Erik said they were to go shopping. This is not what Raoul had in mind. He had dreams of mall pretzels, not being man handled by a stranger while Erik pets him condescendingly.

“He needs your exact measurements.” Erik smooths out wrinkles on Raoul’s sleeve.

“I have suits,” Raoul pouts.

“Do you want to open a new account?” The tailor asks and he stands up and writes down notes.

“No.” Raoul does not hide his annoyance.

“Mm. Yes.”

“Name?”

Raoul opens his mouth to speak, but Erik uses his fingers to close Raoul’s mouth by lifting under his chin.

“Leto.”

The tailor nods and writes down more notes.

“Soon, you’ll dress like a proper boy.” Erik sighs contented while Raoul glares.

\--

* * *

“Quick, give me a fool from Greek Mythology.” Raoul appears from nowhere and Meg squeals in surprise and drops her soda. They watch as it spills and rolls on the ground.

“Hey, come on! A fool. I need to be on even ground.” Raoul snaps his fingers. Meg thinks for a moment.

“A fool?”

Raoul nods and is growing increasingly impatient.

“Midas.” Meg opens her eyes.

“The gold guy?” Raoul is not sure, he frowns.

Meg nods.

“His daughter becomes a gold statue, he begs for it to be undone, he gives up all of his riches, lives in the woods, becomes Pan’s best friend, pisses off Apollo and his face becomes a donkey, where we get jackass from, it’s in _Midsummer’s Night’s Dream,_ kinda _.”_ Meg shrugs _._

 _“_ Midas _.”_ Raoul says and he tests out how it feels against his teeth.

“I have books. Apollo is really screwed up. He was kicked off Olympus for being too cruel.” Meg has an air of respect.

“Yes, books. I need to know things.” Raoul nods eagerly.

\--

* * *

“Hello, Midas.” Raoul sits down on the grand armchair across from Erik, who pauses from his sketching and looks over to Raoul. Raoul is happy indeed he still is not privy to Erik’s actual face.

“Midas,” Erik tilts his head, a confused creature.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m Leto and you’re Midas.” Raoul leans back in the chair.

“And who is Midas?”

“You know, the guy with fucked up face.” Raoul smiles. The temperature of the room drops. Raoul looks over, Erik does not move, says nothing, like he is frozen in time.

Raoul opens his mouth, closes it and then starts,” you wear a mask,” Raoul’s eyes widen.

"Probably wasn't the best choice of words," Raoul says softly and cringes.

"No," Erik agrees quietly.

"Can we delete that and start over? Hello, Midas?"

Erik says nothing for a long time. Raoul holds his breath.

“So, I’m a dick and I’m sorry. I just want you to use my name.”

“I call you Leto because she reminds me of you, your personality. It’s not an insult.”

“Right.”

"My therapist's office called. Our first session is tomorrow. What fun. We have something to discuss."

"It's a date!"


	43. Like Beyonce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Say my name!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQgd6MccwZc

* * *

“And then after he stabs me, I wake up,” Raoul is sitting on his hands and does not want to look at anyone. The Therapist writes down something on the notebook.

“Are these recurring?” The Therapist is not looking at Raoul, which he appreciates.

“Only after he tried to kill me,” Raoul rubs the back of his neck, Erik leans into him.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Erik says softly.

“It was hard to find the right segue, you know? Hey, here’s the rent money, thanks for the coffee, please stop killing me in my dreams, hey, love the glitter on your mask,” Raoul tries sound playful, he looks away when Erik gaze does not waver.

“You pay him rent?” The Therapist is taken aback slightly by this and looks to Erik, who nods. 

“He owns the land that the Opera is on, so yeah.” Raoul explains.

“You’re allowed to talk to me,” Erik reaches out to him.

“Have you told him that before, Erik? Look at him, he’s distressed, anything you want to say?” The therapist waits.

“Our relationship is unusual and high intensity at moments, and I am me,” he poses a little bit and Raoul laughs despite himself and Erik continues,

“I am rather fond of you and if ever feel that you have need of expressing yourself, it’s fine.” Erik leans back into the chair and exhales, as if spent.

“Raoul?” The therapist encourages,

“Thank you?”

“Do you mean that or are you asking?” Erik and the therapist both look at him.

“Yes”

Erik makes a strange intimidating sound and Raoul gets serious,

“I mean it, thank you,” Raoul tries to smile.

“Erik, we talked about this, your demonic impression is most marvelous but do please refrain from such threats when you are in a place meant to heal and build trust. Do I need to bring out the taser again?” The Therapist looks directly into those fierce looking golden feline eyes without flinching or blinking.

Raoul is impressed. The Therapist can hold their own. Erik waves his hands, dismissing the issue.

“Good. Now, I believe there was something about your mask?” The Therapist looks at Erik, he nods and is about to speak, but Raoul cuts him off.

“The king Midas comment? It was in bad taste, but he started it!” Raoul is back on the playground. The Therapist and Erik turn to him and stare.

“Have you allowed Raoul to see your face?” Erik shakes his head; Raoul lowers down in the chair.

“What do you mean by that? That he started it?”

“My name! Like Beyoncé says, say my name!” Raoul sings the song quietly under his breath, the Therapist blinks a few times before addressing Erik.

“Erik, what does that mean to you?”

Erik is trying not to vibrate from the suppressed rage and irritation. Preventing mad cackling out of anger, is also taking a lot out of him.

“You know how I have sweet epithets for Antionette, I have one for him and he’s reacting like a mad child. I feel like a parent that is about to abandon the toddler in the store, for release.” Erik looks at his gloves, trying to find a calm.

“No! You took my name away from me! It’s this weird bullshit dominating control power play. He’s going to take my name, then my, I don’t know, puppy” Raoul is out of breath and he hangs his head, trying to come together.

“Say his name,” The Therapist looks at Erik.

“Raoul, you sound insane.” Erik turns to face him.

“Perhaps there can be an agreement reached. Erik, try to incorporate the use of Raoul’s given name now, while you use your sweet epithet you have for him.”

Raoul and Erik nod.

“Yes, please.”

“We only have a few more minutes left for today’s session, so why don’t you practice, Erik.”

The Therapist sits back and watches him.

“Raoul,” Erik reaches for his hand,” if you call me a cat one more time, I will” The Therapist errs,” I will be most aggrieved.”

“We will build on that next time.”

* * *

"So, that happened!" Raoul says brightly as they take a seat at the table at the restaurant, they are having brunch. They are in a private room in the back, apparently Erik has all the back rooms in the every restaurant on hold for his personal use.

"Yes," Erik wipes down the utensils with a handkerchief.

"Couple stuff is more complicated than I thought. I mean, I figured the worst argument would be over who does the dishes," Raoul is trying to keep everything light. Erik casts a quick glance at him, before placing the knife back onto the napkin on the table.

"Quite,"

Raoul, mishearing, shuts up. Erik, sighs.

"I didn't say, be silent, Le--Raoul. I said, "quite,"

Raoul's face changes colors and he laughs embarrassed, Erik nods and he picks up a menu.

"Can I see your face?" Raoul blurts out, he takes the glass of water and drinks to prevent further damages

"I don't want to expose myself in public, but if you are serious and," Erik trails off. This is a sensitive subject and to reveal himself is the most venerable thing he can do and he does not like to. 

"I want us to grow and I think that would be the next step, I live with you now on a trial basis, so seeing your face is the next logical step. I mean, we've been intimate for months now and I still haven't seen any of your face, your eyes, but they're not covered."

"Trial basis," Erik says quietly in contempt, Raoul leans forward,

"Yeah?"

"We can do that, Le-" Erik is struggling,

"You can call me, Leto, just use my name too," Erik nods.

"Tonight," Erik says.

"You'll make sure it's this grand production of Erik!" Raoul jazz hands and smiles like an idiot.

"Yes,"

"Great."

"I would like to discuss something else. The management of my Opera house."

"Oh." Raoul does not like where this could be going.

"Your brother has no interest in fulfilling your role, when you are out. Nettles is not an option and I will sooner see Meri dead, before he is given any more responsibility."

Raoul has a very bad feeling about what is coming next.

"Jules and I have discussed this and he agrees that there needs to be another manager, outside of you. Moira, a former acquaintance and Richard Firmin are going to be sharing your manager duties,"

"I own a portion of the Opera house, were you going to include me in these discussions? I have a right to be involved." Raoul is trying to keep his temper, Meri didn't say anything about this, if this is the same Moira, and Raoul is liking Jules less and less.

Erik waves his hand.

"I own the land outright and Jules is the majority owner."

"There it is," Raoul mutters, he leans back in his chair and he glares off to the side. Erik leans forward.

"There, what is?"

"The complete lack of respect for me and the job I preform. I have a degree in business management and finance from Columbia! I know things! I have been taking care of the damn Opera House for almost a year, with no help and you don't make things easy! I still get calls from detectives about Lord Chauncey and I am staring to think you're involved with his disappearance,"

"Prove it." Erik teases and rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

"If you don't start respecting me, I'm hiding your masks and taking Meg to all of the raves!"

"You wouldn't," Erik says his voice a warning.

"Let's see, shall we? Ready to order?"

Erik nods.

"Nettles and Jules love the eggs benedict," Raoul calls the waiter over, who stands next to him, waiting for his order.

"Stuffed French toast. Make it super French. I want to taste the judgment." Raoul hands the menu over.

"Bloody Marry," Erik watches Raoul closely.

"You're adorable, Leto."

* * *

"Can you do me a favor? My sister's flight is delayed and I promised I'd pick her up," Reyer is cleaned up today. His hair has been cut, and his face clean shaven, he looks like a proper human person in his suit. Raoul double takes. Reyer was enjoying his "Josh Groban," hair and now it's cut and kept. Something is going on here.

"You sister is visiting? That's cool. You can leave for an hour or so, I guess. You can't fire yourself." Raoul chuckles.

"For the wedding, My wedding. The wedding that is this weekend."

"The wedding!" Raoul totally forgot his best friend was getting married that weekend.

"Yes," Reyer narrows his eyes, Raoul is not used to that and calms himself immediately.

"We are definitely doing something epic and amazing for your stag night!" Raoul forces laughter. He totally forgot to plan something.

"Jules and Erik have a whole thing they are doing."

"Ours is going to be so much more, on."

"I'm going to go pick my sister up now, you can go make your last minute plans." Reyer pats Raoul on the shoulder and turns.

"I totally have everything planned, you suck a duck!" Raoul says lamely, Reyer smiles, nods and walks away.

"I'm the worst best man ever,"

* * *

“Do you have a preference?”

Raoul is about to throw his stapler at Erik, he needs to stop appearing. Raoul shrugs.

“On what, exactly?”

“Champagne.” Erik is setting up their usual lunch office picnic.

“I like Prosecco.” Raoul rolls his eyes as Erik makes sounds of displeasure.

“Let’s ignore that, I’ll pick.” Erik condescends and hands over utensils to Raoul.

“What’s this about?” Raoul waits for Erik to finish, Erik does not like being interrupted, in actions or speaking.

“Tonight.”

“Tonight.” Raul racks his brain for what Erik could be on about.

“Our plans. You asked to see all of me.”

“Yes! That, duh,” Raoul slaps his face.

“You son of a whore,” Reyer storms into the room and he throws a book at Raoul, who cries out in pain.

“Moira, Moira is my new boss? You think I wouldn’t find out!?”

“Meri, I can—”

“Suck all the ducks, lick and eat all the rusted glass! I quit!”

Reyer storms off.


	44. The Big Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time

* * *

* * *

**22 Years Ago**

Madeleine told a young Erik that it is impossible to love a monster, and that is what he is, a monster, for no decent human creature would have a face such as his.

For the longest time Erik had been convinced that a monster lived within the mirrors of his house and that it stalked him through the glass, which led to Erik’s obsession of working and manipulating glass, to the point he can get others to see what he wants you to see.

Erik did agree with his mother on two points, one he is a monster, and two, he must keep his face entirely concealed, not half, not only a portion, but all of it covered, and he has and there have been no complaints, only fatal curiosity.

Then he met her, Antionette Giry, a dancer at some bar in Costa Rica. He forgot why he was there and the world at large when he saw her, Antionette was a dancer, she left home and made it her personal mission to travel all over the world and pick-up new dancing techniques, she wanted to learn all she could, a ballet class was not enough.

Antionette could flow with music in ways no other human could, it is as if the musical vibration formed a ballet around her, her body, her movements had its own manipulations, music wanted to please her, worship her.

Erik’s stomach dropped to the floor. He has never been controlled by his desire before, but he could not ignore the blood screaming into his head, his heart, his trousers.

He **needed** her.

He found the courage to talk to her, they danced some, she criticized with an intoxicating barbed tongue, her insults fed something within him, it wasn’t long enough before he took her in the back behind the bar and fucked her until the sun came up.

She pushed him away when she was tired and walked away into the wilderness, thinking nothing of it or that they would ever see each other again.

She came back to the bar the next night, and the next, and the same thing, they parted ways in the morning, believing it would be the last time they saw each other.

It was like that for a year, they found each other again by crazy random happenstance. Antionette found herself a spot in ballet chorus for some theatre and Erik recognized her body, her moves, her face. He did something he never does and waited for her.

“Wait, I know you.” She stops and stares at him for a minute before she breaks off into laughter.

“You still wear that mask? Is it a culture thing?” Erik shakes his head.

“It’s an Erik thing.”

“Cool.”

\--

* * *

“Erik, I’d like to see the face of the man who rides me each night, so take it off,” Antionette waves her finger around indicating her lover’s mask. They are lounging on bed together, Erik Is wearing a long black silk kimono and Antionette is wearing a red corset and red panties with an open red silk robe.

Erik touches his white silk mask, and he is hesitant. Antionette whistles, she crawls closer to him, she climbs onto his lap and reaches to his mask, he grabs her hands.

“If you are to marry me, I need to see your face. I let you see my elbows, and you know I **_hate_** my elbows.”

Erik makes a strange choking sound; Antoinette tears it off his face. Erik cries out in pain and panic; he covers his face with his hands protectively. Antionette, gently moves his hands out of the way.

Erik is not pretty, and Antoinette sucks in air and she recoils. She traces his enlarged veins and lines of his face with her fingertips, his skin is cold, which she knew it would be, he is **_freezing_** everywhere else on his body, parts of his skin are warm. Infection perhaps?

“I think you may have an infection. Your skin is warm in places, do you ever let it breathe or have gone to see a doctor?”

“No,” Sensing a lecture and a long-winded performance Antionette silences him with her mouth.

“Taking you to a doctor, just to be sure, come on, get your pants on, I promise I’ll take them off again soon,” Antionette hops off him and goes through the dance of dressing.

\--

* * *

After eight hours of waiting, they finally see a nurse, it is confirmed he has a minor infection, they have no name for his skin condition, but they do offer advice and the nurse ignores Erik’s acrid tongue and wishes him well as they take their leave.

“Not so bad, you got medicine and your face is now going to be in the textbook of rare and weird diseases, you’re welcome, lover.” Antionette kisses his masked nose and leans into him as they walk.

"I love you, and your stupid infected face." Antionette sighs fondly, she squeezes his hand and he believes her.

* * *

**Five Years Later**

"Oh, please. Don't be ridiculous. She is your baby, Erik, your daughter, she will not turn from you because of your face. She loves you, you will be able to bond with her, if she sees your damn face. The _**masks** _are probably going to scare her!"

Erik is hesitant. This is his third attempt at the role of Father and he has never been so scared, nay, terrified of anything in his life before.

He has stared down the barrel of a gun, taken on fifty plus assailants, been poisoned multiple times, sexually assaulted, watched a woman he had "loved" fall to her death and die, watched men he loved set on fire and melt, forced to witness public executions, and this, a baby no more than four days old is scaring him shitless and he cannot stop shaking.

“Look at this, the once feared Angel of Doom, scared stiff by an infant. What would your girlfriend the khanum say?”

Antoinette, now Toni shakes her head. She is leaning against the doorframe and is flabbergasted by her husband behavior, he is usually cold, aloof and almost cruel with his indifference.

“She would have me executed by my own designs.” Erik whispers, he is hesitant, he is not wearing his mask, by Toni’s request, and the baby is asleep, for now.

“Erik, you have to hold her, she needs to know your scent, your touch, and yes, your gorgeous face.” Toni walks over and stands beside him.

Erik reaches into the crib and he gently, hesitantly touches her, when she, Marguerite, makes no sounds of displeasure, he adds more pressure, he can feel perspiration begin to form and his breathing becomes increasingly erratic.

Finally, he holds her up, he brings her to his chest and turns to Toni, she rolls her eyes, she nods.

“Lift her up a bit, let her rest into your shoulder, she needs to be able to smell you, properly feel you, know you. Come on, we’re bonding with baby.”

Erik is shaking, he does not want to move her, but he does, he lifts her a bit more, her tiny head is resting into his shoulder, she uses her tiny hands to grab onto the fabric of his kimono.

“She didn’t wake up, it means she feels safe, probably.”

“Probably,” Erik repeats,

"Good. Your turn for feeding and changing duty." Toni places her hand on his shoulder and squeezes, she blows him a kiss and winks before she turns away.

* * *

Meg cries an hour or later, she is hungry, Erik stumbles in, he is nervous, he is trying to keep composed, he is not wearing his mask, as requested, as he promised, he picks up the wailing child and he does his best to coo, to sooth, to shush.

He hums a song and her crying eventually ceases and she is enchanted by his voice, she is lost in his vocal sorcery and majesty. Erik changes her quickly. He takes her to the kitchen to feed her the formula, she holds onto the bottle as she drinks.

He puts her back into the crib, but Erik stops, her small hand holds onto his fingers and she squeezes, she closes her eyes and her hand drops. Erik tucks her in.

* * *

 **Now**.

Raoul is impressed to say the least, he did not know what to expect if he is honest. Erik likes grand productions and is very much all the drama. There are so many fairy lights and candles that light a path to the picnic.

Two glasses and a bottle of champagne are waiting. Raoul takes a seat and looks up at the sky, the stars look like diamonds ready to be taken to be placed in jewelry, and in this moment he is happy.

“I didn’t pack much in manner of food,” Erik says, he pulls up a cheese and fruit tray, a plate of pita chips.

“They did not have the proper cracker or bread accompaniment, I assume you are ignorant of what should be paired with this, so it is irrelevant.” Erik does not hide is vexation.

“It’s cool, like you like to point out, I’m a discount viscount.” Raoul eyes twinkle and Erik snorts and he recovers immediately.

“I don’t think that,” Erik says unconvincingly.

“Yes, you do,” Raoul pours more champagne.

“I know we have much to work on in regard to our relationship, but I do have respect for you, even if it is not always obvious.” Erik picks his glass and drinks for more courage.

“So, your face?” Raoul uses the edges of his sleeve to wipe his mouth, Erik paid for that suit and narrows his eyes, Raoul winces and moves away when he sees those yellow orbs turn fire.

“Yes. I do not like to do this. Perhaps more to prepare you?” Erik gesture to the bottle, Raoul shakes his head.

“I want to be somewhat sober for this moment. It’s huge!”

“Ah. You may regret this, Raoul.”

Raoul feels his heart swell with sharp happiness, he said his name! Erik hangs his head, he exhales deeply, he open and closes his hands, he brings them to the edge of his mask, he slowly unclamps the facets and he removes the mask from his face.

Erik lifts his bare face and Raoul stares, mouth agape, he reaches for the bottle and drinks from it. Raoul shakes his head, blows air like a walrus, and shakes his whole body.

Raoul holds out his hand, takes Erik’s hand into his and smiles and says:

“Hello, Erik, it’s very, very nice to finally meet all of you.”


End file.
